


Strange Perfection

by Rising_Phoenix



Series: Perfect Stranger [2]
Category: Black Sails, Versailles (TV 2015), Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Businessmen, Canon Gay Relationship, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Hotels, M/M, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:55:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/pseuds/Rising_Phoenix
Summary: After Perfect Stranger, Philippe and Lorraine return to France facing a family tragedy, while Louis fights his mother's influence on all their lives and the attraction he feels unexpectedly for a certain Scandinavian rockstar and that will change his whole life...
Relationships: Billy Bones/Ben Gunn, Chevalier de Lorraine/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015), Louis XIV/Ragnar Lothbrok
Series: Perfect Stranger [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1583170
Comments: 44
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TuridTorkilsdottir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuridTorkilsdottir/gifts), [Realart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Realart/gifts).



> Louis' and Philippe's last name is Bourbon in this, and instead ruling a country, they are running one of the largest hotel companies of the world, coming from one of the wealthiest families of Europe.
> 
> There have been mentions in Perfect Stranger that Philippe is a widower to Henriette, and that Louis' wife is on her deathbed. Starting with this story, Marie-Thérèse has just passed and Louis is dealing with the sudden loss of his wife. Liselotte is mentioned in this story and maybe will appear later, but she is not Philippe's wife but Lorraine's assistant, the brothers' mother Anne is alive and the matriarch to the company.

“No, I don't care what he told you, Bontemps. You will right now tell me where my brother is or you will have to deal with the consequences yourself,” Philippe snarled into his phone, making Lorraine raise both brows.

It had been nauseating hours since they had boarded the private jet that had taken them back to Paris and that had just landed half an hour ago, with Philippe trying everything in his power to try to get a hold of his older brother, but to no avail. Instead, Philippe yelled, growled at those he had called, and glared at the phone when Bontemps had the guts to hang up on him a few minutes ago, resulting in him calling Louis' assistant immediately again and had had threatened his manhood and life if he would not tell him finally where Louis had went.

The older Bourbon was not at home. He was not at his office. He was not with their mother or with his children, who needed him the most. And knowing that Louis was, despite his reputation, a responsible person, these facts scared Philippe as Lorraine could clearly see in his eyes. Philippe was despite himself in worry for his brother's safety and he showed that worry without shame. His hands were shaking, his eyes looked at an invisible spot at the headrest of the driver's seat in the limousine they were now sitting in and that Fabien was driving. Lorraine had their dog on his lap, trying to calm the always nervous ball of energy, and starting to get more and more worried about Philippe as well. In all the years they had spent together, he had not often seen his boyfriend this upset.

Lorraine reached over to him and took Philippe's hand in his and squeezed his fingers.

“Mignonette,” he whispered when Philippe looked shortly at him, while the dark haired man ended the call.

“I don't believe a single second that Bontemps does not know where Louis is,” he hissed.

“Maybe Louis just wants to be alone,” Lorraine said, trying to sound confident, but he was worried as well and winced a little when Philippe looked at him with an expression that said nothing but annoyance.

“His wife died yesterday,” Philippe gave back. “If anyone knows what he feels like, then it is me.”

“I was there, you know?” Lorraine said and raised Philippe's hand to kiss the pale skin. “I know how lost and terrified you were when Henriette passed. But you are not Louis.”

Philippe nodded.

“Yes. I am stronger than he is.”

Now Lorraine raised again a plucked brow.

“I am,” Philippe continued. “Louis, you know him. Almost as good as I do. And he is not as strong as he pretends to be. He is alone.”

“Maybe because he wants to be alone.”

“Believe me, he does not.”

“Better than...”

They were interrupted when Philippe's phone chimed and he furrowed his brow when he looked at the displayed name.

“Yes,” he answered while Lorraine continued to massage his hand. “How...Yes, I will remember this when I hand out the cheques for the Christmas gratification this year. You are wonderful, beautiful, and I love you, Liselotte.”

He smiled when he ended the call and tapped on Fabien's shoulder. The almost black eyes of the head of security looked at his passenger in the mirror.

“We need to go to the hotel, Fabien,” Philippe said and looked then at Lorraine. “Liselotte, this golden angel of an assistant, bribed Bontemps and he told her that Louis took a room in the hotel and is hiding there away from reality.”

Lorraine took a deep breath and nodded, grinning a little at the thought of the German assistant that he had hired a year ago and had already proven herself to be without comparison and irreplaceable.

“She is a gift to mankind,” he said.

“She is a gift to us,” Philippe smiled.

For the rest of the drive to the large luxury hotel that was the Hotel Versailles location in Paris, their flagship and one of the best hotels in all of Europe, remained in silence and Lorraine knew better than to interrupt Philippe's thoughts who for sure were circling around his brother and what had to be arranged and done, how he could support him and be the brother Louis needed now.

Fabien ignored the tempo limit, sensing his employer's need to reach their destination as fast as humanly possible, and stopped the limousine in front of the hotel's entrance, where Philippe left the car, while Lorraine remained seated, earning a questioning look from his boyfriend.

“I'll go home and see if there is anything I can do from there, I also need to save the children from your mother.”

Philippe nodded and blew a kiss at the man he loved so much, then he turned around and almost ran up the few stairs that lead to the entrance and went through the large front doors. Without acknowledging any of the guests or employees he went straight to the frontdesk and saw a face he had never seen before, but then he was not often in their hotel and spent most of his time in the offices in the headquarters.

“Keys to the Presidential Suite,” he demanded, holding out his hand, but the young woman at the front desk only frowned at him. He opened and closed his hand a few times, both brows raised. Then he tilted his head a little. “Madeleine,” he said. “Would you please be so kind to hand me the fucking keys to the Presidential Suite? I know my brother is up there and I'd rather not kick in the door because I know how much they cost. So, please?”

“But...,” she said. “I can't give you the key to any room like this, Sir, you must understand that the safety of our guests comes above anything else.”

Philippe sighed.

“Do you know who the guest is who stays in the Presidential Suite?” She shook her head no. “Do you know who I am?” Again, she shook her head. “Let me tell you, Madeleine, if you want to keep your job, which you are obviously new at, you should give me the key within the next ten seconds. Otherwise...”

“Monsieur!” A voice exclaimed and made Philippe stop. “Oh, how nice to see you. It has been much too long.”

Philippe sighed.

“Finally someone competent,” he said. “Colbert, my brother is staying in the Presidential Suite. I need to get the key. Now.”

Colbert nodded, always eager to please and opened the drawer that held the key cards with a code and fished one of the cards out, handing it over to Philippe, who nodded once in his thanks.

“And you should explain to Madeleine here who I am and to never test my patience. Madeleine, bad research who your employers are, you should always be aware of that,” he said and then he went to the elevator that took him to the top floor, where the suite and his destination were located.

He had spent so many hours in this hotel, already when he had been a child, a place where he and Louis had grown up, and he knew every corner almost better than the house that should have been but never was a home. Only a few steps separated him from the elevator doors that closed behind him to the white door that lead to the suite, and he prayed that Liselotte's inquiries had been true and that he would find his brother behind that door.

Philippe opened the door without a sound, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and looking into the sun filled large room, that he found to be a mess, with clothes on the furniture, untouched plates with food and several empty bottles. He listened into the room for a moment before he went into the next room of the suite, where the bedroom was located in which he assumed that Louis must be found.

And indeed, his older brother was in there, and the sight of him broke Philippe's heart.

The powerful and often arrogant, egocentric and calculating CEO of Hotel Versailles sat on the floor, leaning against the opulent bed. He was barefoot and wore dark grey pants and a white dress shirt that was open and showed the equally white t-shirt that he wore underneath. His black hair was unruly and he had foregone a shave for the last two days as the slight shadow on his jaw was showing. Louis was leaning back and his head rested on the edge of the bed, the eyes closed, the mouth slightly open, while his right hand was holding a bottle of wine that looked to be of the same expensive brand as the two empty bottles that were lying next to him, staining the light carpet with the remains of red wine that had escaped the bottles.

Louis' eyes looked even when closed puffy and his cheeks red, maybe enhanced by the alcohol, but he looked like a man who had reached the limit of his strength.

Philippe went over to him but made no sound and went to sit next to him on the floor, trying to take the bottle from his hand, but Louis' fingers tightened around the bottle, and now opened his eyes, showing Philippe now clearly the signs of him having cried.

“Philippe,” he whispered, recognizing his brother. “Marie, she...”

Philippe nodded, putting an arm around Louis' shoulders and pulling him against his side.

“I know,” Philippe whispered, remembering his beautiful sister-in-law with a heavy heart.

“What am I going to do now?”

Philippe pressed a soft kiss into Louis' wild hair.

“You will raise your children, you will run the business, you will be perfect and successful and my big brother like you have always been.”

“I'm not perfect. I'm far from perfect.”

A huff came from Philippe that made Louis look at his younger brother. He could not remember when they had been this close, having become strangers over the years, their relationship not able to survive their lives. Maybe it had been after Henriette had died that they had spent moments together, stolen moments of comfort and friendship. But then Lorraine had returned into Philippe's life, and there had been no place for Louis himself.

“I didn't love her,” Louis whispered. “Why does it hurt so much when I didn't love her?”

“You did love her, just not like you should have loved your wife.”

Louis closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face.

“I'm a terrible human being, am I not?”

Philippe frowned.

“Why would you say that?”

“The night Marie-Thérèse died...I was with someone else,” Louis said, the voice barely a whisper and gripping the wineglass with both hands, that he had taken from its spot next to him, not daring to look at Philippe where he was sure to find the judgmental face of his brother.

Philippe though just stared, then he frowned.

“Not to be rude, Louis, but when have you ever not sought out the company of other women while you were married to her? It's not like I don't know what it is like to be married for other reasons than love,” he then said, putting a hand on Louis' arm.

Now, the older Bourbon brother looked at him. Guilt in his face, pain almost. The hint of a smile was on his lips for just a second, before he lowered his head again, staring again into the red of the wine, so similar to blood.

“I wish I could have loved her. She was a good woman, maybe if I had given it a chance...,” he continued but looked at Philippe when his younger brother let out a loud sigh.

“Maman married us both off like we were living in the 18th century and she was running a kingdom and not an enterprise, Lou,” he said, a little anger in his soft voice. “She made me not only unhappy. She made me suicidal, she made me miserable and broke the heart of the man I love. I mourn Henriette, God knows I do, she is the mother of my children, but I have never loved her, and she could not have made me happy if hell had frozen over. Am I happy that she is dead? No. I'm not. But I'm not unhappy that that joke of a marriage is over and I have Lorraine back at my side, and I'm planning on keeping it this way until I die one day. Hopefully in a very far future. Now tell me, were you happy with Marie?”

Louis shook his head and took a sip of wine.

“I was not, but that does not excuse how I treated her.”

“You had an arrangement under the cloak of a marriage, Lou,” Philippe continued. “She would not want you to blame yourself.”

“Don't you understand? I was fucking with someone while she was fighting for her life.”

“She had a fucking meningitis, and you had no chance to do anything for her while she was in the ICU of a very expensive private hospital, Lou,” Philippe said, his voice growing as loud as Louis' had gotten. “You fucked numerous woman while you were married. Hell, I had to find you balls deep in some chick not only one time,” Louis winced at his word. “Why is this so different? It's not the first woman you fucked.”

“It was not a woman,” Louis whispered. “And I did not do the fucking, as you put it so nicely.”

Philippe closed his mouth and stared at his brother. Stunned. Shocked. The pale eyes, so similar to Louis', blinking a few times.

“Are you telling me...?”

“That I was with another man, yes.”

“You told me you are ashamed that I'm gay. You told me that I'm disgusting you and that I'm putting our name to shame, and you...”

“And you know I never meant a word of those!”

“It still hurt!” Philippe stood up and walked over to the suite's window, where he stared at the illuminated Eiffeltower in the distance. “What does this mean?”

“I don't know, Pip,” Louis said, using for the first time the name he had called Philippe when they had been carefree children, before their mother put pressure and an unbearable weight onto their shoulders. “I don't know.”

Philippe returned to him and went to his knees in front of him. Without a word he took the glass from his hands and instead took the hands, trembling and cold, into his own, making Louis look up, pale green eyes filled with pain, fear and insecurity. For the first time in many years, Philippe would be the strong one.

“I have your back. No matter what happens. No matter if that lover of yours tries to blackmail you or try to harm you in any way. I will have his balls if he hurts you, Lou. I love you, and Lorraine loves you too. We will be at your side, no matter...”

“He will not try anything like that. He's out and he knows I am...not...I don't even know what I am. I don't even know anymore who I am.”

Philippe smiled encouraging.

“You don't need to label yourself. Maybe it was just one time and you were curious. That happens, you know? This does not necessarily mean that you're gay or bi, or whatever,” he said silently. “Do I know him?”

Louis shrugged.

“You may heard of him,” Louis said, again not looking at Philippe, who raised his brows in curiosity.

“Who?” He only asked.

“He's a musician, a singer. From Scandinavia. He was staying here when...when we met,” he said, and when he looked up he saw how the frown on Philippe's face deepened and his eyes had turned into slits.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Philippe asked, the voice a little breathless. “Ragnar Lothbrok? Of The Vikings? You got fucked by a fucking heavy metal rock star?”

Louis blushed. The powerful CEO of Hotel Versailles actually blushed and Philippe noticed the ghost of a smile appearing on his face, but still Louis avoided looking at him.

“This is too precious!” Philippe exclaimed. “Wait until I tell Lorraine about this!”

Philippe stood up and fished in the pocket of his tight jeans for his phone, but found Louis' hand on his wrist, stopping him.

“If you call your boyfriend, who is the worst gossip in the whole of Paris, no, in the whole of France, I will have you castrated,” he hissed, but Philippe grinned.

Oh, this was just too good to be true.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Northman make an appearance and Louis' mother shows her motherly skills...or not.

Two weeks later, Louis was sitting behind his desk in his top floor office in the headquarter of the hotel group he lead, back at work, reading files and making phone calls.

He felt numb, he could not even cry anymore and at the same time he felt weaker than he had ever felt before. The emptiness in his heart did not even make sense. Philippe had been right. He had not been in love with Marie-Thérèse, and still being her widower now had come as a shock to him and he still could not wrap his mind around not being ever again able to talk to her, to see her pretty dark eyes again or to see her interact with the children.

Every now and then, his eyes flicked to the framed pictures on his large desk, those stylish silver frames in which he kept pictures of the people he held the closest to his heart. There was a picture of Marie with their three children, taken at the company picnic last year. The pretty Spanish woman was sitting on a checkered blanked, the children around her, all laughing and looking like a carefree, real family, something they had never really been. Another frame showed a picture of Philippe and Lorraine with the two children of Philippe with Henriette that the two men raised together. It was a picture that had been taken during their last holiday together, in the South of France. Lorraine was carrying Marie-Louise on his shoulders, while Philippe held his son's hand and looked at the smaller boy with such adoration that Louis had no doubt that they were truly happy. With each other and as a family. He was happy that Lorraine had returned into Philippe's life years ago, even though he had not trusted the flamboyant and confident man with the sharp tongue originally. Lorraine though had made sure that he was staying, no matter what Louis or the brothers' mother said or did this time. He was with Philippe until the end, and alone that strength, the words thrown at Louis when Lorraine had visited him one late evening in his office, had assured Louis that Lorraine was the right man for Philippe, and when his mother had tried to intervene, tried to find something to blackmail Lorraine again out of Philippe's life, it had been Louis who had told her off. His mother had been surprised by his words and by his decision that they had to stop meddling in Philippe's life after they had already almost broken him once. Lorraine and he had come to an understanding, they were so different that they always clashed whenever they met, but they had come to an understanding and the love for Philippe had given them some kind of weird friendship.

The third picture showed himself and Marie on their wedding day. The gorgeous bride in her tight dress that had cost a fortune and had been made by one of the most prestigious designers, himself in his tailored black suit, both wearing a bright smile. Only who knew Louis better could see that that smile was not reaching his eyes. And he could not remember when he had last laughed, from his heart, until his belly ached. Their wedding had not been under a good star from the start, arranged like Philippe's ill-fated marriage to Henriette. In the beginning, he knew that Marie wanted to be in love with him, tried everything, but he had never been in love with her, not in the way he should have been. She was beautiful, was funny and intelligent, and numerous men would have called themselves lucky to have a woman like this at their side. But not him. He wished they could have been better friends, if not for them, then for the sake of their children.

Louis smiled at the beaming bride on the photograph, and felt a tear escape his eye. He put his fountain-pen down with which he had been busy signing contracts that had been prepared for him, and rubbed his face with both hands.

When the door to his office opened, he looked up and looked into the worried face of his assistant Bontemps, who approached him.

“You should go home, sir,” he said, but Louis frowned.

“I need to finish this, I have lost too much time already.”

“Everyone understands that after what happened. You should take some time off.”

Louis sighed.

“And who would take my place in the meantime? Philippe has already given me too much of his own time.”

Bontemps sat down on the other side of the desk.

“Your brother is worried for you. And I am too.”

Louis raised a brow.

“I'm fine,” he replied. “I'm fine. It is not easy.”

“It is not. You should go home for tonight, sir. We have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow with the board of the Paris hotel.”

Louis nodded.

“I assume that everything is prepared.”

“Of course, sir. We will get the latest numbers tomorrow morning, I will have folders prepared and will be ableto brief you shortly before the meeting starts.”

Louis nodded again, always able to rely on his assistant.

“You're right. I should go home before the children go to bed,” he said and got up, every bone in his body aching. “Alexandre,” he said, making his assistant look up. “Thank you for always looking out for me. I appreciate it.”

Bontemps smiled shortly and gave him a nod.

“Have a good night, sir.”

“The same,” Louis gave back while he took his coat from the closet and made his way with the private elevator to the the parking deck where he took his sleek sportscar and made his way back home.

He was dreading returning to the house he had lived in with his family, but rarely had been to in the past years. He had never called the villa home, it was the house where his family lived and where he spent time when it was required from him, while he spent most nights in the apartment he had in the city.

The Parisian traffic made his way home longer than he had anticipated at this hour, and after an hour and a half, he finally parked his car in the driveway of the house, locked it and took a deep breath before he entered the building.

Immediately, he was hit with the sound of crying and the hissing voice of his brother. Louis frowned.

He took off his coat and put his keys onto the small table that stood in the hallway and went to the living room in the back of the house, where he located the upset voices and found almost all of his family there.

Philippe was standing in the middle of the room, clad in black jeans and a wide knit pullover that made him appear smaller than he was, the shoulder long hair open and in soft waves, surrounding an angry face. He pointed a finger at his mother, who stood there, all the matriarch of the family without moving a single muscle or showing any emotiong, exactly the woman he had known all his life. Lorraine was sitting on one leg of the large sofa, Louis' son Philippe in his arms who was sobbing, and his daughter Anne on the other, while the middle child, Marie, was nowhere to be seen.

“What is going on here?” Louis asked and all eyes turned to him.

“Why don't you tell him what is going on, mother?” Philippe told his mother with a voice that left no doubt about his annoyance, his eyes only shortly looking at Lorraine who nodded and kissed the upset boy's hair who was crawling closer and closer into his uncle's lap. “My love, will you take the children out? They heard enough already.”

Lorraine nodded and stood up, little Philippe's hand in his.

“Come one, guys. We'll see if we find some ice cream in the freezer, we can use that, can't we?”

The children nodded and passed Louis on their way out of the room.

“Give her hell,” he whispered to Louis who still had his eyes on Philippe and his mother.

“Where is Marie?” He asked.

“She is upstairs,” Philippe told him while he took position next to his brother.

“Will you enlighten me what is going on here?”

Philippe huffed.

“She,” he said, pointing at his mother. “Has arranged for a boarding school for Anne and Marie.”

Louis needed a second before his brain could process that information.

“You did what?” He hissed, his voice suddenly very similar to that of his brother.

Anne Bourbon, the mother of him and Philippe, stood there, the back straight and proud.

“It is best for the children,” she said. “You are in no way able to provide for them.”

Louis blinked.

“And when did you plan on dropping that bomb on us, mother?” He asked. “We have just lost their mother, and you want to take them from their home, from me?”

“You are never here anyway,” she pointed out. “How can you be even sure that they are even your children?”

He noticed how Philippe held his breath, and he balled his hands to fists, taking all his strength not to punch his mother's emotionless face.

“How dare you?” He whispered. “Out.”

She raised her brows.

“Come again?”

“I said: out!”

“No, Louis, I am staying. We need to make arrangements and the children need to start packing. The new school year starts next week and they need to get ready as soon as possible.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Philippe asked. “Louis asked you to get out. I suggest you do that before I take this to a more physical level and throw you out of the house.”

The older woman blinked.

“This is not the last word spoken about this.”

“Oh yes. Believe me, it is,” Philippe said. “Allow me to show you the door.”

Louis sank on an armchair until Philippe returned and without a word, Philippe filled two glasses with brandy and handed one to Louis.

“I feel like my life is in ruins,” Louis said. “What am I going to do? How am I going to survive this?”

Philippe leaned against him.

“We will make it. She has no power over us anymore. Not anymore.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Ragnar was pacing the room in which he and his band got ready for their concert that would start in a few minutes. Every few minutes he checked his phone for something new, that someone sent him a text or anything. But it had remained silent during the past two weeks and he asked himself, why he even was thinking that there could be any change in this.

Rollo stretched his long legs and frowned at his younger brother.

“Why the hell are you so distracted today?” The manager of Ragnar's band asked.

“It's about that Frenchie,” Floki replied in Ragnar's place, earning a glare, from his place on the backrest of a chair that was close to tipping over.

Rollo furrowed his brows, still observing his now slightly wincing brother.

“You fucked a french groupie when we were in Paris? Do you never learn? Don't tell me you knocked someone up.”

“T'was no groupie,” Floki giggled.

Ragnar was close to punch Floki's stupid grin off his face and hissed: “Shut up, Floki.”

Floki though seemed to think he needed to reassure his own words.

“He was NOT a groupie.”

Ragnar and Rollo both sighed for different reasons.

“Please tell me I don't have to apologize to the hotel on your behalf.”

Floki continued giggling and annoying Ragnar to a level that only could result in a bloody fistfight any second.

“I said: Shut the fuck up, Floki,” he snarled dangerously.

Floki raised both hands.

“Not saying anything. But apologizing to the hotel could be funny.”

The glare that Ragnar sent in his direction looked like it could kill someone.

“What is he talking about? Did you break something expensive? Oh God, please don't tell me you broke something,” Rolle sighed, alredy starting to remember their insurance's phone number, at the same time asking himself why they had not been contacted yet by the hotel for compensation.

“Only the owner's ass,” Floki continued to giggle.

Now Ragnar was making a warning step into his friend's and drummer's direction.

“Am I speaking a language you don't know? Shut. Up.”

Realization was dawning in Rollo's brain and he stared open mouthed at his brother.

“One moment. You fucked...,” he started.

“Louis Bourbon. Yes,” Ragnar's ex, Lagertha said from her place on the couch from where she had so far silently watched the exchange.

“What the fuck?!” Rollo said loudly.

“Now he's yelling,” Floki stated, now being glared at by Rollo as well.

“Not like I forced him,” Ragnar whispered and chewed on his bottom lip at the memory of the French millionaire in his arms, and somehow he missed him, not that he woud ever admit that.

“Oh Ragnar. More. Harder. Yes. Please,” Floki moaned with a strong fake French accent.

“I'm going to kill you. Slowly,” Ragnar said, his right hand in a fist already.

“You are aware his WIFE died while we were there?” Rollo asked, still a little stunned.

Ragnar nodded. Remembering the call that Louis had gotten the morning after, when he had only told him he had to leave without a goodbye. Only later he had heard from the news what had happened, and he put one and one together and realized that the call Louis had gotten that morning...

“I know that. I heard it the next day, after...,” he said, the voice now surprisingly silent.

“Let me get this straight. You fucked him while his wife was dying,” Rollo stated.

“Nothing straight about that one,” Floki chimed in.

Ragnar moved his fist.

“That's it. He's dead,” he growled and launched himself at Floki who fell now over with his chair.


	3. Chapter 3

“Have you eaten?”

Philippe looked up from the file he had been reading on his place on the L-shaped sofa that was the center-piece of their spacious living room.

Frowning he looked first at his boyfriend, who was leaning in the doorway that lead to the hallway, and then to the large windows that opened up towards the garden. He had not even noticed that it had gotten dark. Lorraine must have turned on the lights, having noticed that he had forgotten time once again.

Philippe knew what the reply was that Lorraine was hoping for, but he also knew the truth and knowing that Lorraine would look right through any lie he was able to give him, he said: “Not yet.”

Lorraine nodded, the arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Are you planning to?”

Philippe put the file down and sat up from his almost lying position on the sofa, chewing on his bottom lip for a second.

“I'm not hungry,” he said, while closing the folder and then looking back up.

Lorraine sighed and made a few steps towards him and Philippe expected him to sit down next to him, instead, Lorraine sat down on one of the two stools on the other side of the low coffee tables separating them.

For long seconds, Philippe looked at the man who he had loved since their first meeting and would continue to love until his dying day. Lorraine's eyebrows were turned upwards, like they always did when he was worried, his blue eyes filled with concern. Lorraine sat leaned forwards, the arms resting on his legs. Philippe saw stains of flour on the denim shirt Lorraine was wearing, a clear sign that he had been busy in the kitchen.

“Are the children...?” He asked.

“In bed, yes,” Lorraine replied, his eyes firmly on Philippe's. “Charlie asked if you would come and give him a good night kiss.”

Philippe sighed and got up.

“That was two hours ago.”

“I forgot time,” Philippe said, sitting back down and leaning back into an almost lying position, rubbing both hands over his face.

“I noticed,” Lorraine said. “Where is your head?”

Philippe did not look back up when he replied: “I'm worried about Louis.”

“Philippe,” his partner said. “I know you are worried about your brother, but honestly, you should take care about yourself first. You don't help Louis by any means when you make yourself sick. Again.”

Now Philippe looked at him again.

“I'm fine.”

“Philippe...”

“I am fine.”

Lorraine sighed.

“When did you last eat a full meal?”

“I...,” Philippe hesitated and Lorraine waited a moment.

“See?” He then said. “You can't even remember yourself. You're lucky that you're cute, and you're lucky that I'm a good cook. Follow me into the Chez Lorraine, monsieur.”

He winked and stood up, and with a sigh, Philippe followed him out of the room, a few steps through the hallway and then into the kitchen, as spacious as every other room in their house on the country side outside of Paris, a place they had chosen for their family for the calmness and lack of stress in their private lives.

Philippe could not help but smile at the sight that was presented to him.

Lorraine had indeed prepared something to eat for him, counting on him always winning their discussion about Philippe's bad eating habits. The kitchen island in the center of the room, mostly white with a creme colored marble floor and tan brick walls, was decorated with a plate with steaming food and several bowls. It smelled divine, and immediately Philippe was filled with the feeling of belonging and being home, something that only Lorraine was able to provide for him.

Wordless, he took place on one of the white leather chairs and looked with a smile at the plate in front of him, filled to the brim with a stew made of carrots, potatoes, beans and lamb.

“You know me to well,” he said and took the fork. “Thank you, my love.”

Lorraine showed his lopsided smile and made himself busy at the sink, while Philippe started to eat fork after fork of his favorite food.

“I was thinking...,” Philippe said while chewing, something he would chastise his children for, but Marie-Louis and Charles were already in bed. He would apologize to them tomorrow and make it up to them soon enough.

“That is always something I worry about,” Lorraine grinned and stole a carrot from his plate, now taking a chair next to him.

“Asshole,” Philippe laughed. “No, I was thinking if we should invite Louis and his brood over the weekend, just us and the kids hanging out, maybe we can make a barbecue or something like that? Or a picnic? Yes, a picnic would be nice I think? They can surely use the distraction.”

Lorraine nodded and when noticing that Philippe had finished the stew, pointed towards the bowl with fruit and mascarpone which Philippe took closer and started to eat with an eye-roll.

“You are right, I guess,” Lorraine said then, taking the empty plate from Philippe and storing it in the dishwasher. “No appointments for this weekend?”

Philippe shook his head.

“No, nothing.”

“Then give your brother a call, Mignonette. If the weather stays this nice we could prepare a nice picnic, the children would love it.”

Philippe nodded and chewed on a large piece of melon.

“Louis could surely use the distraction, you are right,” Philippe mused. “With all the mess with first Marie and now with mother, and then there's also...”

His eyes growing a little wider he stopped mid-sentence. Lorraine would have let it go, but that Philippe blushed a little awakened his curiosity.

“There's also?” He asked.

“Nothing. Nothing important.”

Lorraine raised both brows.

“Philippe. I've known you for a really long time. You are my life. You are the father of my children. You are the only family I need and you are the only love I will ever have. But you are the worst liar I have ever met.”

“I'm not lying. What are you implying?”

Lorraine snorted.

“I am implying that you are not telling me something. What is it that your brother needs distractiong from except for his wife's death and your saint of a mother.”

Philippe swallowed, contemplating for a moment if he should lie or just tell Lorraine that he could not tell him, but this was Lorraine. The man you held his head when he was throwing up. Who calmed and grounded him. Who made this house the home he had never known before.

“The night Marie died, Louis was with a lover.”

Lorraine's brows went up.

“That is not a surprise,” he said. “What is it that you were not wanting to tell me?”

Philippe sighed and held a hand out that Lorraine looked at.

“Give me your phone,” Philippe said and Lorraine handed over the device he had carried in the pocket of his trousers and watched how Philippe unlocked the screen with the code they both shared, and started to google for something.

With another sigh, Philippe handed the phone back to Lorraine who looked at the screen.

He looked at the photograph of a man with piercing, brilliant blue eyes. He was wearing his dark blond hair in a ponytail, the sides shaven away and the scalp decorating with an assortment of tattoos that gave him a certain edge, the beard a little unruly but unable to hide how handsome his face was. The photo showed only a little of his clothing, but it looked like he was wearing a top made of leather.

“Looks rough. But pretty eyes. Why are you showing me a picture of Ragnar Lothbrok?”

“So you know who he is?”

Lorraine grinned.

“Of course I do,” he said. “Yes, not my favorite kind of music, but I like his lyrics. They touch something in me, and it's great movie for working out or driving. So, what about him?”

He looked again at the photograph, admiring the handsome face of the singer and songwriter, and suddenly, realization dawned. Lorraine looked from the photograph to Philippe and repeated this, now looking at his boyfriend.

“Are you saying that Louis...and Lothbrok...that they...?”

Philippe nodded.

“Oh. My. God,” Lorraine whispered.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ragnar was pacing his hotel room and had done so so often that he almost thought that he left a path in the creme colored carpet.

He wore only low-riding sweatpants and was barefoot, had gotten out of the shower a few minutes ago and had immediately returned to his phone, checking it for replies to the messages he left in voice and text form. But again his attempts to contact Louis Bourbon remained unanswered.

Being a rockstar, twice divorced from his bandmate Lagertha first, and supermodel Aslaug second, and having countless one night stands, he had never had a drought of sex partners, rarely his bed stayed empty, so he did not understand himself why the smaller and younger Frenchman did not leave his head for a single moment since that one night they had spent together. He was no stranger of sex with another man, but Louis, it had been different. Louis had been not inexperienced, but somewhat surprised at everything they shared together. He wished they would have had the chance to talk afterwards, to spend the rest of the night and the morning together, and maybe something more. Something else.

Something in Ragnar craved the other man, like his soft skin and strangely innocent blue eyes were the only meal that would be able to satisfy his hunger. He found himself wanting and needing Louis, wanting to hear his voice with the sweet French accent and seeing that boyish smile appear.

God, what was wrong with him?

Again, he dialed the number that he knew was Louis', which they had exchanged before they had made their way into Ragnar's hotel room, and closed his eyes while he listened to the generic voice of the provider, telling him that he could leave a message after the beep.

“Hey Louis,” he said, clearing his throat a little. “It's me, I mean it's Ragnar. Hell, you know who I am. I just wanted to check in and see if you're doing ok? I mean...fuck...I want to see you again. I know this is the worst timing but I really...fuck, I'm an idiot. Ignore me. I'm sorry.”

He ended the call and let himself drop onto the bed and he threw his phone against the wall, cringing when he heard it shatter.

“Awesome,” he muttered, realizing that even if Louis would try to contact him now, he would not be able too until he had put his SIM card into a new phone. “Goddamn fuck!”

He got up and collected the pieces of his phone, and left his room and went straight to the room of his brother that was on the other side of the hallway right opposite his.

His knock was answered a moment later when an angry looking Rollo opened the door, wearing open jeans and nothing else, the long hair wild and the eyes piercing him in anger.

“What?!”

Ragnar raised both brows.

“What do you mean, what?” He gave back. “I broke this. Get a new one.”

He handed his brother the pieces of his phone. Rollo blinked at the broken parts.

“What the fuck did you do to it?”

“Why does that matter? I need a new one. Now.”

Rollo grunted.

“It's 1 AM, Ragnar,” Rollo said.

“And?”

“Shops are closed now?”

“And?”

Rollo gave his younger brother a shove.

“Go and leave me alone. I take care of that tomorrow, later today.”

Ragnar huffed.

“Night then,” he growled.

“Night, Ragnar.”

“Night, Lagertha!” Ragnar shouted over Rollo's shoulder.

“Good night, dear!” His ex-wife shouted back from the depths of the room.

Rollo glared at Ragnar, who smirked.

“Phone. Tomorrow,” he reminded his older brother.

“Fuck off, Ragnar.”

With another smirk, somehow proud that he disturbed his brother's love life, and turned around, returning to his room.

Maybe tomorrow, maybe after he had gotten a new phone, Louis would call him back.

He smiled at the thought.

Louis.


	4. Chapter 4

“So, you and Ragnar Lothbrok?”

Louis spat out the salad he had just put into his mouth at Lorraine's words, the eyes comically wide, staring at his brother's boyfriend who grinned and then frowned when Philippe punched him hard with his fist against his upper arm.

“Ouch, that hurt!”

“Good!”

Lorraine was rubbing his arm, looking at Philippe, whose pale eyes shot daggers at him.

“I told you that was a secret,” he hissed.

“I didn't tell anyone!”

“You were not even supposed to know!”

“As if you could keep a secret from me!”

“You are such an idiot!”

“You are an idiot!”

“Boys!” Louis yelled between them, loud enough for the couple to stop, but not to alarm the children who were playing a few steps away from them, not wanting to alarm any of them. “Stop.”

Philippe shot a last look at Lorraine, and then turned his attention towards his brother.

“I'm sorry, Louis,” he said, reaching out and putting a hand on his brother's leg. “I know you asked me to not tell...him. I'm sorry.”

Louis nodded.

“I trust you that you keep this among yourselves,” he said, mostly into Lorraine's direction who raised both hands in a defensive gesture.

“I swear on my mother's grave,” Lorraine said.

“Your mother is alive, the old hag, and she hates you as much as you hate her,” Philippe huffed.

“Then on your mother's grave, maybe we are lucky and she...,” Lorraine made a cutting-his-throat gesture, making both brother's laugh.

“We're not lucky,” Louis said, shifting a little until he had one leg angled.

They were sitting together on a picnic blanket, plates and bowls of food between them, with two more blankets close on which the children hat taken their food earlier. First, Louis had hesitated to accept the invitation from his brother and Lorraine to spend the weekend at their home, but his children had overheard his conversation with Philippe and had begged him to accept. And they all had been right. It felt good to not be in the house he had shared with his wife, heavy with memories. The children had found a nice distraction playing with their cousins and he enjoyed surprisingly the company of Philippe and Lorraine, even if they acted like bickering children most of the time. He though noticed the worry behind Lorraine's smile, and the gentle touches and smiles that Philippe gave him, but never with a hint of pity.

“So,” Lorraine said, putting a grape into his mouth. “What Philippe told me is true? You and Lothbrok?”

Louis sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Yes,” he then answered.

Lorraine nodded and swallowed.

“Wow,” he said. “I didn't see that coming, and my gaydar is usually spot-on.”

“Your gaydar has been broken years ago. You didn't even realize that Billy is bi until you ran in on him with that Italian twink.”

“Billy is different,” Lorraine said, annoyance on his face. “This is about Louis, who fucked every girl that was not up the trees at the count of three.”

“Louis...”

“Is sitting right here,” Louis interjected.

Philippe and Lorraine glared at each other, and even though it seemed like they were fighting, Louis saw the deep love between these two men, and he felt something like jealousy. He never have had someone in his life who made him look like Philippe looked at Lorraine, like Lorraine looked at Philippe. Like the other was the center of the world.

“I'm serious,” Lorraine said, again looking at Louis, ignoring his annoyed boyfriend. “I never knew you were into guys too?”

Louis shrugged and took the wineglass into his hand, taking a sip of the chilled rosé his family had picked, fresh and fruity.

“I didn't know myself, until...,” he took another sip of wine.

“Then you're not gay? Bi?” Louis shook his head. “That must be weird for you.”

Again, Louis nodded.

“You have no idea.”

“Maybe you're Ragnar-sexual,” Lorraine grinned, to which both Bourbon brothers rolled their eyes. “Was it good? Did you top him or did you bottom?”

“Philippe!” Philippe yelled, making Lorraine wince, knowing he was in deep trouble when he used his first name, which was never used unless when the love of his life was angry.

“What? I'm curious,” he said.

“You are a nuisance, and I don't know why I bother with you.”

“It's because you love me, Mignonette,” Lorraine said, the softest of smiles on his face.

Philippe huffed again, and looked at Louis, shaking his head.

“I feel like I should apologize for him.”

Louis smiled a little helpless.

“It's okay, I think,” he said, tracing the rim of the glass with a fingertip, lost in thought.

“You're thinking about him?” Lorraine asked.

“Lorraine, it's enough now,” Philippe said. “Stop embarrassing my brother. Louis is here to forget his worries and not for you to interrogate him.”

“He has stopped calling,” Louis said, and now both men looked at him in surprise.

“What?” Philippe asked. “What do you mean?”

Another sip of wine followed.

“He tried to call me since...well, since it happened. Sent a few texts, but I thought it inappropriate to reply with Marie just...you know?” He did not dare to look at the two men who were both looking at him. “He stopped. I guess he lost interest after I did not reply. I should have replied, I'm such an idiot. The single good thing that has happened to me in...in years, and I let it slip through my fingers.” He sighed. “Ignore me, it's the wine speaking.”

Now it was Lorraine who put a hand on his arm.

“If he wants you, he will call again. And if he does not, he's an idiot,” Lorraine said. “And if he hurts you, I will have his head on a stake. Nobody hurts my Bourbon brothers, and especially not my boss.”

“Hey!” Philippe said, whacking Lorraine's arm.

“Mignonette, that hurts!” Lorraine gave back, again rubbing his arm.

Louis chuckled.

“You're right. He either calls or he doesn't.”

Philippe tilted his head to the side and put a lock of his dark curls behind an ear.

“And why don't you call him?” He inquired.

“I tried when he stopped calling,” Louis said. “It's disconnected.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“You have done WHAT? And what the fuck is this?”

Rollo winced a little at the loudness of his brother's voice, feeling bad for the assistant that was in the focus of Ragnar's anger.

“It’s an iPhone XR, Rollo said…”

“It’s fucking orange!”

“It’s coral,” Rollo chimed in with a wide smirk that was responded to with a glare that could kill. “And Bjorn already apologized for what happened to the SIM card.”

“Say that again,” Ragnar snarled at the younger man, still not believing what he had done. “You have done what to my phone?”

“I...uhm,” he began. “He said I should bring it to the shop and get you a new one, he didn't say it was for you, he even gave me instructions which phone to get.” Ragnar glared at Rollo, who grinned. “I left the broken phone there, I didn't think any of it.”

“That is not the point. Where is the fucking SIM card?!”

“I left it in the broken phone,” came the reply.

“Repeat that.”

“I left your SIM in the phone. I didn't know.”

“God, if you were not my son, I would fucking fire you!” Ragnar growled.

“Dad,” Bjorn said. “I already said I'm sorry.”

Ragnar closed his eyes, praying for patience.

“It's okay, sweetie,” Lagertha said. “It's not your fault.”

Ragnar opened his mouth to say something, but the glare his ex-wife sent him made him stop in his tracks.

“Why is that SIM even that important? Your provider is sending a new one with the mail, you will have it in a few days.”

“Because I had my contacts on the SIM, Lagertha, thank you very much,” he said. “I have a number on there that I can't get a hold on otherwise. That is why.”

Lagertha raised a brow.

“He's talking about the Frenchie.”

“Shut up, Floki!”

Bjorn looked a little clueless from his father, to his uncle, to his mother, to his godfather, and back to his father.

“You're making such a fuss because you have the number of one of your fucks on it?” He asked. “Fuck, dad, not like you don't find a new pussy in the next city anyway.”

“Language!” Ragnar and Lagertha yelled at the same time, while Floki giggled, and sometimes if all screws in Floki's head were at the right places.

“Not a pussy,” Floki said, prompting Ragnar to make a threatening step into his direction.

“I'm going to pull every of your rotten teeth while you're asleep, asshole,” he whispered in a tone that left no question about the seriousness in that threat.

“Can't you get your itemized bill? Wouldn't the number be on record there?”

“Don't have that option,” Ragnar admitted, pulling a hand through his loose hair. “Dammit, I fucked up,” he said to himself. “This time I really fucked this up.” He looked at the people who were his family, then shook his head and left the room.

Lagertha looked for a moment at the door that just closed behind her ex-husband, and then rolled her eyes at Rollo and Bjorn who both made no move, and then followed Ragnar.

She found him behind the backdoor of the concert venue they were playing their show in this evening, having just lit a cigarette, which she took from him and put it out.

“You stopped that a year ago,” she said when he looked at her with an unspoken question in his eyes. “Tell me. What is really bothering you?”

He shook his head and leaned against the railing of the stairway that lead to the parking area where their bus and trucks were parked.

“Nothing,” he said, looking down at the concrete floor.

“I've known you all my life,” Lagertha said, leaning next to him, her arm touching his. “We've been married and we have two children. You're my best friend.”

“You also fuck my brother,” he hissed.

“What does Rollo have to do with this?” Lagertha asked.

“Nothing,” Ragnar gave back.

“Then don't let your frustration out on us, especially not on Bjorn,” she said, the voice soft but not leaving any doubt that she would get him to understand whatever she wanted him to understand. “He's so damn proud that Rollo asked him to assist for the tour until he returns to college, so don't spoil this experience for him, okay?”

Ragnar nodded and rubbed his face.

“I will apologize to him,” he said. “It still sucks.”

Lagertha gave him a nod, but her eyes were still searching for something, analyzing him, like they did all their lives.

“It's the hotel guy?”

Ragnar nodded, not daring to look at the woman who could read him like an open book.

“Louis?” She asked.

Again, he gave a nod.

“I don't understand what is going on with me,” he said, his melodic voice barely a whisper. “I can't stop thinking about him. I can't sleep because I think and worry, and now I lost the only chance to reach him. What is wrong with me, Lagertha?”

She raised a brow.

“You really don't know?”

He now looked at her, a brow raised, the famous eyes that had whole websites dedicated to them and a fan-run twitter account that he stalked and found hilarious, questioning her.

“You're in love,” she smiled.

He gasped.

“What? No. Nononono. You're ridiculous. I don't fall in love,” he said, his heart suddenly skipping a beat.

Lagertha put a hand on his shoulder.

“You, Ragnar Lothbrok, are the best lay I ever had, you are a wonderful father and a great friend. You were a shitty husband. But you are also the most obtuse and idiotic man I have met in all my life,” she chuckled. “You are in love with Louis Bourbon.”

He blinked.

“I'm not. I can't be. I mean...I know nothing about him. He just became a widower, and we only were together for a night, I mean...oh God,” he muttered. “I'm...I'm in...love?”

“You write the most beautiful lyrics about love, about rejection, about obsession. You should know the best what this feels like, Ragnar,” she said.

“But...how?” He asked, confused. “I don't even know him.”

“Since when do you need to know someone to fall in love?”

He took a deep breath, more than ever craving a cigarette, or a drink, or something harder, more, but he would not give in to those demons anymore that had more than once brought him to the limit, to the brink of ruining his life.

“I should have never let you go,” he said, squeezing her hand, which she did too.

“You did not let me go, you found someone new,” she said, the memory of long overcome pain in her voice. “I'll always love you, and I know you'll always love me, but it's not the love that makes us insane, and fills us with lust and passion anymore, and it never will be again. I maybe have found this with Rollo, who knew?” She laughed. “I wish you will find this too. And if it is with Louis, then so be it. Get him if you want him, and if he is the one for you, never ever let him go again.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her surprised lips, and the tough woman that had always been his rock on the stormy shore, blushed a little.

“Should have never let you go,” he repeated.

She rolled her eyes.

“We should get back in and get ready for the show,” she said. “And then we'll figure out a way for you to get a hold of your Frenchie.”

“Not my Frenchie,” he grinned, and put his arms around her shoulders, returning into the bowels of the concert hall.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Short mention of an eating disorder.

The moment the bedroom door closed behind them, Philippe jumped into Lorraine's arms, who instantly grabbed his butt, holding him close and returning the all consuming kiss they started to share.

Philippe's hands found Lorraine's blond hair, found his neck and shoulders, found finally the buttons of his shirt and started to open them. Finding his boyfriend with trembling fingers and unable to open the buttons without several curses, Lorraine smiled into the kiss and pushed Philippe towards their bed and looked down at the already disheveled man, whose skin was already flushed and whose eyes were wide with arousal.

Without a word, Lorraine opened the remaining buttons of his shirt, making Philippe laugh out at the playful display front of him, making Lorraine grin while the shirt dropped to the floor. Philippe chewed on his lip, taking the torso of his partner in, the muscled chest and stiff, rosy nipples, the hint of chest hair on his golden skin, the narrow waist and the trail of hair that lead to still hidden fields of pleasure underneath the cloth of his jeans. The showing bulge clearly indicated the level of arousal Lorraine was in, and as if he read his boyfriend’s mind, he opened the belt buckle and buttons, and let the jeans slid down his thighs.

Philippe held his breath, never getting used to seeing the man his loved in this state, never getting used at the sight of his blood filled manhood, standing proud from it’s nest of dark blonde hair, already leaking and not leaving a single doubt that he wanted Philippe as much as he was wanted by him.

“Like what you see?” Lorraine asked.

Philippe leaned back on his arms and opened his legs wider, giving Lorraine an unspoken invitation.

“Love what I see,” he replied, the voice heavy with lust. “Love very much what I see.”

Stepping out of the dropped jeans and his shoes, Lorraine lowered himself onto the bed between Philippe’s spread legs, slowly crawling up his body like the predator he was in moments like this. His body heat spread from his skin and prompted Philippe to lay back and look up at him. Lorraine covered his thinner body with his own, kissing him with butterfly kisses and teasing him until he moaned and tried to urge him to deepen the kisses. Lorraine raised his head out of his reach, a smug smile on the lips.

“Not so impatient,” he said. “Only patience is rewarded.”

“Patience is overrated. Need you. Now.”

Now it was Lorraine who laughed, pressing his hard cock into Philippe’s crotch, finding his counterpart just as hard as he was. Philippe groaned.  
“You are a tease, you know that?”

“Uh huh.”

Philippe took Lorraine’s head in his hands and pulled him down, closing his lips on his partner's, consuming his breath and taste.

Before he realized it, Lorraine had dragged his shirt above his head and the moment their chests touched, skin on skin, pure bliss filled Philippe’s thoughts. He arched back his neck and put himself into a vulnerable position below the other's.

“Want you,” Lorraine murmured at his ear, licking the earlobe and causing Philippe to shiver in anticipation. Unable to answer, Philippe only nodded.

Lorraine’s fingertips found Philippe’s nipple and started teasing him. Twisting and tugging on the hardening buds, he made him soon moan in wanton need, trying to touch and feel every inch of the other man. When he could not get enough friction, Philippe opened his pants himself and tried to shimmy out of them. Lorraine nibbled at his jawline and pushed his hands down the pants that separated them from more contact, and dragged them finally down until Philippe was able to push the pants further down with his feet, until they both were finally naked on top of their bed.

Never would Philippe get used to feeling his Lorraine like this, on top of him, dominating him with subtle strength and at the same time, this confident man showed such vulnerability in his eyes. always asking the unspoken question if he was hurting Philippe, if he was too much, too strong, too harsh, and always Philippe would give a silent answer that said: Go on.

And so, Lorraine kissed Philippe’s jaw, his neck, his collarbones, easing his way further down his body until he was able to suck on and bite into the long stiff nipples. Philippe hissed at the stimulation and moaned even louder, aware that the sounds they were making gave away filled their room, not caring if anyone outside these walls knew what they shared with each other.

Lorraine continued to kiss down Philippe’s body, ghosting a soft kiss on his belly button, making Philippe giggle, and found Philippe’s stiff cock. He licked up the length, tasting the sweet flavor of his boyfriend, consuming the arousal he had given him. Closing his lips around the tip, he sucked gently, the tongue playing with the tiny slit, causing Philippe to bite down on his wrist, not wanting to get off so soon. 

“You...you need to stop that, love,” he whispered.

Lorraine looked up, a drop of Philippe’s precum glistening on his lips. 

“Stop what, Mignonette?” He asked and pushed a finger without premonition into Philippe’s opening.

Philippe arched his back off the bed at the sudden intrusion and hissed a curse. He was being fucked open slowly with first one, then two of Lorraine’s fingers, preparing him for what was to come.

Lorraine licked his wet fingers and the predatory look in his eyes made Philippe shudder. He couldn’t keep his eyes off him when Lorraine crawled back up and kissed him on the lips, letting him taste his own flavor. Philippe spread his legs wider and invited Lorraine to join with him, no words needed.

Lorraine entered him slowly, almost unbearably slow, and Philippe wanted to shout at him to go faster, deeper, now, to not hesitate and not treat him like glass. But at the same time, Philippe knew that this was Lorraine’s way to cherish the moment, to cherish him, savoring the moment of this union, every time they became one.

Bottoming out, Lorraine stopped in his movement, letting Philippe adjust to his girth and looked into his pale eyes, watching the pupils grow impossibly wide and consuming more and more of the unique pale irises. With a grunt, Lorraine started again to move. At first with slow thrusts, almost pulling out all the way only to push back into Philippe with his complete length, hitting Philippe’s prostate with every thrust. Soon he picked up speed and force, until his hips snapped forward with a merciless and powerful pace. Philippe bent himself in half, digging the heels of his feet into Lorraine’s bottom and his fingernails into his shoulder blades. He whispered encouragements, and terms of endearment, urging him to go harder, faster, deeper, until he knew that the inevitable peak of their lust approached, and finally washed over them like a tsunami.

Like a well adjusted machine, two parts joined together, both men screamed their released into the twilight, filling their room. Their hands intertwined and bodies moving as one, slower with each passing second, but with the intensity of only the sex between two people could be who were united in true love.

His pulsing cock buried balls deep in him, Lorraine emptied his load inside Philippe, whose channel spasmed around him in those last moments of his climax, milking him and making his toes curl. 

Lorraine panted at Philippe’s neck, the eyes closed and overwhelmed by the connection he felt for his lover.

Aware his weight was heavy on Philippe, even though he did not mind, he slid finally off him but still held him tight, resting his head on Philippe’s chest, a leg hooked over Phiippe's still trembling thigh.

Philippe’s fingers found his now damp hair, stroking the strands as if to sooth him.

“I love you,” Philippe whispered, the voice heavy with emotion and the slow abating of his arousal, heart beats slowly getting back to normal.

“I love you too.”

Lorraine’s slowly tranced the pattern of three beauty spots on Philippe's hip, and then shifted so he could look up into his face, noticing how Philippe was staring at the ceiling of the bedroom they shared and had shared for the last years, absent in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he whispered, making Philippe look at him, a smile on his still red lips.

Lorraine shifted and pulled Philippe into his arms again so the brunette was on top of him, and immediately, like they had done more times than they could count, Philippe rested his temple on his chest and found Lorraine's elegant fingers in the array of wild dark curls that surrounded his face and were sticking into every direction.

“I was thinking about Louis,” Philippe admitted.

“We were just having sex, and you were thinking of your brother? Should I be aware of a new kink you developed?”

Philippe slapped playfully his chest and huffed.

“You're an idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

“Mmmmh,” Philippe made, pressing a kiss to Lorraine's chest. “Thank God you are.”

“We will find a way to help Louis, Mignonette,” Lorraine said. “There must be a reason why Lothbrok stopped trying to call.”

“Maybe he just got bored of the constant rejection.”

“Maybe he just realized that Louis is in mourning and that he needs space? If Louis is so gone on him, he can't be a bad person. I'll figure something out.”

Philippe moved his head to look up.

“When did you become so smart?”

Lorraine grinned and pushed a strand of Philippe's curls from his forehead and then stroked gently his shoulder, noticing how the collarbones were more protruding than they should be. He furrowed his brows and sighed.

“You need to eat, Mignonette,” he whispered. “You worry me.”

Philippe's expression grew annoyed within a second and he moved from his boyfriend and sat up.

“I'm fine,” he replied. “I'm just stressed.”

“You are bulimic,” Lorraine only stated. “I am worried because I love you.”

Philippe did not look at him, instead he moved his face away, ashamed and embarrassed that old habits were sneaking their way back into his life.

“I know you're stressed,” Lorraine said, sitting up himself and pulling Philippe against his side, where he leaned against him, now his head back on Lorraine's shoulder. “I can't lose you, my love. I know I can be strong for you, but you are so strong yourself. The strongest man I ever met. One day...”

Philippe looked up.

“One day?” He asked.

Lorraine's smile was a little helpless.

“I am nothing without you, do you know that?”

“You are everything without me. You are the best interior designer of France, if not of Europe. You'd be rich and famous if you had not chosen to nanny me.”

Lorraine kissed the lithe man in his arms.

“And I don't regret this choice for a single day. One day, I will be your equal, and then I will ask you something and await your reply.”

“One day you will realize that you have been my equal since the day we met, and I will reply with the only answer possible.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Later the same night, Louis woke up from what only resembled sleep. Again, he had drunk too much, again he had stayed up until he knew he would not get enough sleep to make it throughout the next day with meetings and work and problems to deal with.

He stayed unmoving in his bed, the same bed he only a few weeks ago had shared with Marie, and he hated that this room reminded him so much of her. He should be making plans to change everything, to get rid of the trinkets and memories of her, her clothes, her cosmetics that took up most space in the shares bathroom, but even for that he did not have the strength.

He listened into the darkness, trying to figure out what it had been that woke him up.

After moments of silence, there was a silent sound. Almost nothing but in the stillness of the night, he heard a whimper, a little sob, then again nothing.

He closed his eyes to hold back tears himself and then got up and out of his bed.

Standing barefoot in the hallway of the first floor of the spacious house, he listened again to find out where the sound had come from and found it to be coming from his daughter Anne's bedroom that was opposite the room he had shared with his wife.

He knocked carefully and went into the room after no reply came.

The room was dark except for the little light that came through the window.

“Anne?” He whispered. “Are you awake, love?”

At first, there was no reply, but then there was another little sniffing sound, followed by: “I am, Papa.”

Louis smiled and went to sit down on the edge of her bed.

“Can I turn on the light?”

“Uh huh.”

After the soft light of the nightstand lamp had enabled him to see his oldest daughter, his heart was filled with pain. Anne's porcelain skin was red and her eyes swollen, the face streaked with tears.

“You miss Mama,” Louis stated, no question asked. “Scoot over.”

Anne looked at him with a questioning expression but then did as he asked and found herself surprised when he moved to lie down next to her, leaning against the headboard and dragging her into his arms.

“I miss her too,” he whispered, a hand in the dark waves of her hair. She resembled Marie so much that it broke his heart, and he already could see that she would soon be a beauty like her mother had been, with the light skin of his side of the family and with the same pale eyes that he and his brother had, and that all their children had miraculously inherited.

“You did not love her,” Anne stated stubbornly. “You were always fighting.”

Louis sighed.

“Adults are weird,” he said. “Yes, we were fighting a lot, but I did love her and I think that she loved me too, just not in the way husband and wife should love each other. We were both, and I always will be so very happy that we have you three, you are the lights of our lives, and I wish that you hadn't overheard our fights.”

“Are you happy she is dead?”

Louis gasped.

“Why would you say such a thing?”

“When you were fighting the last time, you said you wished she would just be gone,” she whispered, the voice trembling as if she was holding back new tears.

“Oh God,” Louis said. “No. God, no. I am not happy she is dead, how could I be? We were fighting and we both said terrible things in our fights that I now will never be able to take back. You are soon a woman, my Anne, and I want to be honest with you because I think you can understand.” He kissed her hair. “I wish your mother and I would have had the chance to lead a life like we both dreamed of when we were younger. Independent and happy, with a person at our side that we could have been able to truly love and not locked up in a marriage that we both were not happy in. But I will never regret having you, your sister and your brother. I am so proud of you and so happy that you are my children. And I will fight heaven and hell so that you can find the happiness that was impossible for your mother and me.”

Anne shifted and leaned so she could look up into her father's face.

“I want you to be happy too, Papa,” she said, a shy smile on the pretty face. “I want you to fall in love with the right person and be happy. For Mama, and for us.”

He smiled, tears filling his eyes.

Oh, how he wished that too.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar having reason to hope...

Ragnar was sitting on the bed in his New York hotel room, both legs pulled up, the coral phone in his hands and staring at the screen. He did not even know what he was waiting and hoping for. Louis did not have his number, never did, and he did no longer have Louis' number after Bjorn and Rollo fucked up his SIM card. The phone shop where Bjorn had gotten this abomination of a phone had thrown away the not fixable phone including his card, his cell phone provider was of no help getting him the number he tried to call maybe a hundred times and now he was waiting for a wonder to happen. A wonder that he knew deep inside would never come.

It had been more than a month now, and if asked a few weeks ago, he would have told everyone he would be over this soon, yet he was not. The smaller French businessman with the cute smile and the curious eyes was still constantly on his mind. Even when he tried to hook up with another groupie in his series of hookups that had filled his nights in the past, he could not do it. He had given a shit when he had been married to Lagertha. He was giving a shit about Aslaug. But he could not bring himself to cheat on someone who was not even his and probably never would be. He could not understand what the fuck was wrong with him. His bandmates laughed at him for having stopped partying, but Lagertha and Bjorn were worried and gave him pitying looks, Rollo even stopped glaring at him all the time.

It had long be decided that this tour would be the end of Vikings, that his band was retiring. Each of the childhood friends that were members of the band were having their own lives now, had grown up one way or the other, and they had developed into different directions. It was the right time to stop and move on. He had dreamed of a silent life with his famil somewhere, but his second marriage was a joke and always had been. He did not even know where to go when this tour was over in a few days, because home had become an abstract construct to him. He missed his children, but he barely knew the young boys that Aslaug had given birth to and that were taken care of by nannies as he knew, but he did not miss a life that did not feel like his own anymore.

Sighing, he let his legs stretch out and leaned back, closing his eyes.

Something was wrong with him and he did not understand what.

With another sigh, he pulled his hair back, his hands rubbing over the sides of his head where the undercut that he had been wearing the last years had turned into short hairs that were babysoft and more grey than he had expected, but he like it somehow. Maybe he would cut off his ponytail when the tour was over and try to look more responsible, after all Louis ran a business and...what was he thinking again?

Ragnar groaned and slip lower on the couch, upset and angry with himself and ready to throw the phone against the wall, but then stopped himself from doing that, still desperate for a wonder to happen.

In his strange position, it took him a moment to get up when there was a knock on the door of the hotel room, and when he opened, he found Rollo on the other side. Without a word he stepped to the side and let his bother pass, following him and watching with a cocked brow how Rollo just sat down on one of the armchairs.

“So,” Rollo said.

“So,” Ragnar replied, taking his place of the couch and again checking his phone for the message that never came.

“Still nothing?” His brother asked with a gesture towards the phone and Ragnar shook his head.

“What do you want, Rollo?”

Rollo pressed his lips together and looked at his hands.

“It's about me and Lagertha,” he said, the usually so strong voice almost silent. “You know me and her...”

Ragnar raised one brow again and leaned back, one bare foot on the low table.

“I did notice, yeah,” he said. “Hard to not notice.”

“If it upsets you...,” Rollo started but stopped when he noticed that Ragnar was now leaning forward.

“Don't tell me you would stop if it upset me,” he said, not able to hide a grin. “Are you happy?”

Rollo looked up, searching for something in his younger brother's eyes.

“I am.”

“And is she happy?”

Rollo hesitated for a moment.

“I think she is, yes.”

Ragnar showed a wide grin and leaned back again.

“That's good,” he said. “Then I am happy for you. Both of you. If you hurt her, I will have you blood-eagled.”

Now it was Rollo's turn to raise his brows.

“I think if I hurt her she would kill me herself. She is...she is the strongest and most amazing woman I have ever met. I will never understand why you let her go.”

“It was me who left,” Ragnar said. “Maybe I was an idiot back then, but Lagertha and I were not meant to be. I'm happy that you found each other, and I think you are meant to be.”

Rollo smiled softly and nodded.

“I love her,” the older brother said.

“I hope you do.”

Rollo looked for a few moments silently at his brother.

“Do you love Aslaug?”

“God, no. No. No. I don't,” Ragnar replied without hesitation. “I will get divorced, have spoken to my lawyer already.”

“I'm glad to hear that. What about the boys?”

Ragnar rubbed his eyes.

“I will try to get custody,” he almost whispered. “With the band stopping I can offer them a more grounded life, maybe with her being the bitch she is, I will have a chance. I'd like to settle down somewhere nice.”

“Like France?”

Ragnar narrowed his eyes.

“What are you implying?”

“That you are completely gone on that Bourbon guy,” Rollo smirked, knowing how to push Ragnar's buttons.

“I fucked my chance with him up. I can't even talk to him, why should I hope...”

“Because you do. I've known you from the day you were born, and sometimes I know better what you think than you do.”

“And what do I think?”

Rollo's blue-green eyes locked into Ragnar's famous turquoise ones.

“You are completely in love with your one night stand,” Rollo said, not stopping to look into his squirming brother's eyes. “And you would do anything to get him.”

After a moment of silence between them, with Ragnar having the feeling that he stopped breathing, Rollo started to grin.

“Am I right or am I right?”

“I hate you.”

Rollo nodded and fished a piece of paper out of the pocket of his jeans.

“I want to ask Lagertha to marry me, and I want your blessing.”

Ragnar's brows hit his hairline, a snarky remark on his mind, but then he saw the seriousness in Rollo's eyes and he nodded slowly.

“Make her the happiest woman in the world,” Ragnar said. “You have my blessing.”

Rollo gave the nod back.

“Thank you,” he said. “I will try my best.” He stood up and held out his hand, offering Ragnar the piece of paper. “Take it,” he said when Ragnar hesitated.

Ragnar unfolded the paper and looked at numbers starting with 001133. He looked stunned up at Rollo.

“That's his office number, I had to bribe a few people to get his secretary's number.”

“You...I love you,” Ragnar said.

“Thought you hated me,” Rollo laughed. “Do your thing, Ragnar.”

“And you do yours,” he said, still staring at the numbers that could change everything. “And now out with you, I have a phone call to make.”

Rollo laughed and winked at him, leaving the room and the moment the door closed, Ragnar had his phone in his hands and dialed the number. It must be evening in France, maybe Louis was still in the office, at least that was what he was hoping for.

After a moment of silence the call connected and he listened to line until a woman picked up.

“Bureau de Monsieur Bourbon, Madame Maintenon parle. Comment puis-je vous aider?”

Shit.

French. He did not even know a single line in French, but this was an international businessman's office. They would surely understand English, wouldn't they? He doubted that Danish or Swedish would get him anywhere.

“Uhm...Ragnar Lothbrok speaking, I'd like to be connected to Louis, I mean to Monsieur Bourbon.”

“What is the matter of your call, Mister Lothbrok.”

He winced and thought for a moment what to tell the stranger.

“It's something personal.”

Ragnar heard how the woman sighed, and he could almost hear the eyeroll. This was not going the way he had hoped for.

“Monsieur Bourbon is in a meeting, if this is a personal matter you surely have already his personal phone number.”

“Listen,” Ragnar started, but was interrupted.

“Listen, Mister...Lothbrok, whoever you are. Monsieur Bourbon is a very busy man and he is not wasting any of his valuable time on prying stalkers and so-called journalists like your kind. So kindly resume from calling this number again, Mister Lothbrok. I will have your number put on our blacklist,” she said. “Have a good day.”

“No, wait, this is...”

His heart stopped beating when the call was disconnected and he re-dialed immediately, and was met with the information that the number he called was no longer available.

“What the fuck...?”

He hit another dead end.

* * * * * * * * * *

  
  


“What was that, Françoise?” Louis asked when he and Philippe exited his office and only heard the last words of the call she had just ended.

“Just another of those annoying journalists that want information about your private life,” she said with a smile that made Philippe shiver. He had never liked her and he knew that she was trying to manipulate his brother and sneak her way into his life.

Louis nodded.

“Thank you for handling that,” he said and put a folder onto the desk. “Any word when Alexandre will be back?”

“He called and apologizes that the virus has him down for a few more days, I'm afraid,” she said, acting like she truly cared that his trusted assistant was hit with a bad stomach virus.

Louis sighed.

“I will give him a call tonight,” he said, which was met with Philippe's nod.

“Give him a virtual hug from me and Lorraine,” he said. “We miss him, I hope he will be better soon.”

“God, I hope that too. I have no idea about how to do half the things I do without him,” Louis laughed, making Françoise frown. “Time to call it a night. I want to have dinner with the children tonight.”

He closed his office door and left, after saying goodbye to Françoise, together with Philippe.

In the elevator, Louis leaned against the backwall and closed his eyes.

“You are stressed,” the younger of the brother's said.

Louis nodded.

“Anne is having nightmares, thanks to mother's threat of having her and Marie taken to a boarding school,” he said. “And I...I don't even know what to do or think anymore.”

“You're still thinking of your viking,” Philippe stated, no question in his voice.

“What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing, Lou,” Philippe said. “I think this is just truly you.”

Louis looked at him, the eyes tired and still so sad that it broke Philippe's heart and he put a hand on his shoulder.

“I don't even understand why I miss him so much,” Louis whispered. “I wish he would call just once more. Just once.”

Philippe nodded.

He had to do something.


	7. Chapter 7

How everything bad happening in his life had lately to do with phone calls, Ragnar could not say. After the disaster with the call he dared to make to Louis' office, he felt even more down than before.

Fuck his life.

Fuck his stupid, miserable, useless life.

Another concert hall, another backstage room that stank of stale beer and urine and whatever other bodily fluids someone left there.

Ragnar was upset and the anger was mirrored in his eyes, so his bandmates and the team knew to not talk to him or even approach him when he was in a state like this.

Right now, he was sitting on the armrest of a sofa in the dressing room, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers, urging the migraine to go away that he always felt when his wife was screaming at him through the phone, in a volume that made sure that everyone else in the room, which were Arne, Lagertha and Floki, were hearing every single word she said, her threats and her insults directed at the man who married her in a drunk mood and financed her life.

Floki winced with him when he held the phone a bit more far away from his ear when Aslaug again yelled at him, and Lagertha knit her brows together, asking herself why Ragnar had not raised his voice yet. There had been a change in him lately, everyone noticed, but there was no explanation for them.

Ragnar closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

“Now. Listen,” he snarled, the voice leaving no doubt about how angry he really was, and everybody knew this was the edge where he should not be provoked any further. But instead, Aslaug said something else that made Ragnar's right eye twitch. “No. You listen to ME!” His voice grew into a threat that now made Arne, who had been texting someone on his phone, look up as well, the seeing eye filled with worry. “Yes, I filed for divorce, you greedy bitch. How can you even be surprised?” There was another insult thrown at him. “Do you think I don't get informed by what you do while I'm away?...How is that an excuse? Arne is gone too, Floki is gone. I don't see their wived getting photographed by some idiot paparazzi while being totally wasted! You were fucking pregnant with Ivar, goddammit? Ever wondered why he is disabled?...No, it is not my faulty genes, are you for real?...I am divorcing you, and you won't ever have to bother being a mother to my sons again in your life!...Why? Honestly?...Cause I am going to get full custody for them! You made sure that you are the bad one in this, Aslaug, not me!...You're quite mistaken about that...”

Ragnar looked up with surprise when Floki took the phone from his hands without a warning and before he could react, his childhood friend listened for a moment to what Aslaug was saying, still thinking she was talking to Ragnar.

“I'm sorry, Aslaug, Ragnar will not talk to you anymore, you can talk to his lawyer instead. And I'm also sorry to inform you that he very well gets it still up, just not with your kind. And now, goodbye. I hope to never see you again.”

Floki ended the call and handed the phone back to Ragnar with a nod.

“I hate her,” Floki said and sat back down, chewing again on his thumb nail like he often did.

“Guess we all do,” Arne said. “You know we have your back in this, Rangi?”

Ragnar could not help but smile when also Lagertha nodded.

“I can't believe that bitch,” Ragnar said, looking at the phone in his hands that showed that Aslaug was calling him and he pressed the screen to decline the call. “She is the one with the drug problem and who is in tabloids the whole time, but I am the one whose fault everything is. What was I thinking?”

“You didn't think at all,” Lagertha said.

“Obviously,” Floki snickered, looking away when Ragnar glared at him.

“You'll get your kids,” Arne said. “You'll see. She's not fit to be a mother.”

Ragnar nodded.

“I just...I don't know,” he whispered. “I just wish...”

“You wish you had your Frenchie and that everything would finally add up to something,” Floki nodded, no mockery in his voice but seriousness. “If the Gods want it, it will happen.”

Ragnar wanted to say something snarky, but instead he gave his friend only a roll of his eyes.

“We all will fight for you, at your side,” Arne said. “This is the battle we will win for you.”

The smile on Ragnar's face showed traces of sadness. This was the last show. This was the last stop. This was the end of Vikings. The last time he and these three would sit together backstage in a terrible room, anxious and filled with adrenaline, excited and pumped up.

He got up and reached out with one hand. Floki followed his example until the four of them stood in a circle, holding each other's wrists.

“Promise me something,” Ragnar said. “Promise me we all will stay friends, no matter where life takes us after tonight.”

Arne smiled, giving him a wink with his intact eye.

“We're not friends, Rangi,” he said, making Ragnar frown. “We're family.”

  
  


  
  


* * * * * * * * * *

  
  


  
  


Again, Lorraine and Philippe had invited Louis and his children for the weekend to their place, which had become a constant fixture in their lives already, and again, Louis was enjoying sitting in his family's garden, watching the children play with each other, while Philippe kept him company and Lorraine was watching the barbecue and turning steaks and ribs that already smelled divine.

With the stress these past weeks had put onto his shoulders, this little time he could spend with his family felt like a dream come true to him.

“Has mother bothered you again?” Philippe asked over the brim of the glass of wine in his hands while taking a sip.

Louis shook his head.

“No, thank God not,” he replied. “I'm surprised that she has given up like that to be honest.”

“Do you really think she has?”

Louis looked at his brother's worried eyes.

“You can never be sure with her,” he said. “I though hope that she will respect my wishes and decision. I'm not giving my children away like...”

“We have been.”

Louis nodded.

“I'm surprised we two turned out so good with a mother like that,” Philippe smiled.

“I think it's because we want to give our children what we never had?”

“Maybe,” Philippe nodded. “Sometimes, I'm scared that I'll wake up, back at school, with ink on my face and glue in my hair and that all this has been nothing but a dream.”

Louis winced at the memory of his younger brother being bullied at school for his feminine features and pretty face, remembering how often he had dried Philippe's tears when he wanted to run away from the boarding school they both went to.

“No, Pip,” he said, once again using Philippe's childhood nickname like he had started after Marie's death. “This is real. You and me, Lorraine and your children, my children, your home. All of this is real. Or we both are insane.”

Philippe laughed.

“That would explain so much,” he said, looking at his boyfriend, who just flipped a steak, wearing baby blue bermuda shorts and a shirt with a wild flower pattern, looking like he was on a beach vacation.

“I'm glad you have him,” Louis said, following Philippe's eyes towards the blond man.

“I'm glad I have him,” Philippe said with a smile. “I think he wants to ask me to marry him.”

Louis raised his brows.

“About time,” he said. “What is stopping him?”

Philippe turned his attention back to his brother.

“I think he feels inferior to me, for whatever reason. Name, money, I don't know and, hell, I don't understand. But I will not push him and I will not ask him myself. I will wait until my dying day if I have to until he asks me.”

“He's a good man,” Louis said. “I hate that you were apart from each other back then.”

“It almost killed me,” Philippe said. “You know it did.”

Louis nodded, remembering the day, just three days after Philippe's wedding to Henriette, after Lorraine had showed up at the wedding and only had stared with heartbroken eyes at the young man he had loved with all his heart marrying someone else, after having rejected his offer to marry him instead and just run away, doing his duty. That terrible day when Louis had found Philippe in the bathroom with slit wrists, crying his eyes out and telling his brother that he wanted to die, that he could not do this, that he wanted to die. It had broken Louis' heart and he had assured Philippe that he would be there for him whatever he did, even if he annulled the marriage and eloped with Lorraine instead. But then Philippe had “manned up” the next day to his surprised and pretended to be strong and in a marriage that was happy, even though everyone knowing him knew that he was unhappy. Philippe had lost weight, again, had relapsed in his sickness and had turned into the shadow of the man he was supposed to be. Only when Henriette had died, in a car accident following a public fight with Philippe, and Lorraine had returned, Philippe had dared to be himself. With flamboyant clothes, with his prettiest of pretty faces and those enchanting eyes, his refined and sometimes stern voice, soft and strong at the same time, all because he had the love of his life by his side. The man that swore to Louis in a conversation they once had behind closed doors, that he would never leave again and never hurt Philippe and instead remain forever at his side.

“I know,” Louis replied. “I will never allow it to happen again.”

Philippe's smile was soft and kind, but still showed worry.

“What about you, Lou?”

“Nothing about me.”

Philippe's brow went up.

“You know, you may never realized, but you were in the same position as me. We have both been sent to boarding school because it was the right thing to do. The moment we left school, we were put into positions in the family business that we would not have chosen ourselves, married away to ensure business deals, to women we did never love like we should have. The only thing that is different is that I am gay. And that you as the older one, have been given even more responsibility, but that burden is now too much on your shoulders, and I'm not very sure anymore that you are totally straight.”

Louis tilted his head to the side.

“I hate to admit it, but I think you are right about everything you said.”

Philippe grinned.

“I am more often than you think,” he smiled and looked at Lorraine again who just pulled his phone out of a pocket and answered a call, turning a little away from the noise the playing children made.

He watched Lorraine nod and talk, and then Lorraine looked up.

And he smiled right into Philippe's eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT!!!!
> 
> And men with many, many feelings

“GOOD NIGHT NEW YORK!” Ragnar yelled at the top of his lungs into his microphone, sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyes, smearing the khol that surrounded them.

Blinding flashes of the fireworks around him went up again, and he could not help but smile, laugh and cry at the same time.

He grabbed the hands of Lagertha and Floki, Lagertha taking Arne's and all of them raised the hands into the sky, bathing in the thundering yells and cheers of the audience and the tumult of the pyrotechnics.

This was the end.

They were closing a chapter of their lives tonight and it was a good ending for them. Long ago, they had decided to quit when they were still popular before they would vanish into obscurity and go with a bang. All of them had plans for the future, the other three more detailed than himself, but their lives and careers would start anew tomorrow and bring them to new prosperous fields soon.

He was proud of what his little band of friends from their childhood neighborhood had achieved, and he was happy that they were able to still part ways as friends without any animosity between them. Still, he felt sadness too and was openly showing the tears that went down his cheeks and looking to his right, he saw the smile on Lagertha's face to be a little sad too, while Floki on his left sobbed and grinned. Arne was fighting, not wanting to show his emotions so open, but his eyes too were glistening with unshed tears.

They were again bowing in front of their cheering audience and payed their respects to the people who had supported them for the past more than fifteen years and had made them into one of the most successful acts in the world, had made all members of the band famous and so rich that neither of them needed to worry about their future ever again.

Walking to the sound of their fans still cheering, the four of them made their way backstage, being clapped on shoulders, backs and arms by the members of their crew, people they had known for years and finally found their way into the dressing room where they could catch their breath for a moment before the bus would take them back to the hotel where they finally would be able to shower and change clothes.

Ragnar followed Floki into the room and frowned.

On the floor, right in the center of the room, stood two suitcases and two duffelbags, all made of soft brown leather and tan canvas. Luggage he knew all too well since it was his own.

“What the fuck?” He muttered and looked up, finding his bandmates look as surprised as him. “Are you kicking me out this fast, or what?”

Lagertha's face mirrored his frown, while Arne shrugged.

“I have nothing to do with this,” Floki thought important to mention.

“I brought them here,” Bjorn said, entering the room behind them and sitting down on the leather sofa, a lopsided smirk on his face.

“What the fuck, Bjorn?” Ragnar repeated taking a towel that was offered to him and rubbing it over his face.

“I asked him to do that, calm the fuck down, Ragnar,” Rollo said while coming in, pressing a kiss to Lagertha's cheek and then taking position facing his brother.

“Can someone enlighten me?”

Rollo said nothing, instead he smile and handed Ragnar an envelope.

With a frown deep between his brows, he opened it and pulled a plane ticket out.

“I don't understand,” he said.

“You've never been the bright one in the family,” Rollo said. “Read.”

“I can read,” Ragnar said, looking again what the ticket said.

One-way.

New York to...Paris?

He looked up.

“He doesn't want to see me,” he said, obviously upset. “This is a bad joke.”

Rollo put a hand on his arm.

“I got a call while you were on stage. From someone called Philippe de Lorraine, he's family to Louis,” he explained. “He got my number through various channels and after you and your Frenchie seem to be unable to live without each other, we took this into our hands.”

Ragnar blinked.

And blinked again.

“He...,” he asked, whispering.

Rollo smiled kindly and nodded.

“Your flight goes in two hours,” he said. “Go. Go and do us all a favor and get him.”

Ragnar nodded, his brain unable to fully process what this meant.

“I...,” he said.

“Go!” Lagertha said, laughing.

Again, he nodded.

Bjorn got up and picked two of the items on the floor up.

“I have a rental, I'll drive you.”

“Yeah...I...uhm...,” Ragnar made.

“GO!” All others yelled at the same time, which prompted him to pick up the two remaining bags and follow his son outside.

“I expect an invitation to the wedding!” Floki yelled behind him, followed by an: “Ouch! Why did you hit me?!”

  
  


  
  


* * * * * * * * * * *

  
  


  
  


With every day, Louis hated his life more.

The only times when he was without a headache was when he was spending time at home with his children. Anne's nightmares were not a regular fixture for his nights anymore, and they even had started to laugh again together. It was still a little hesitant, but the fear of being taken away seemed to have vanished from their days. He still felt the eyes of the people he loved on him, filled with worry, and even Lorraine had told him that he was looking not like himself anymore. He had lost a little weight and was pale, did not get much sleep and worked too many hours. To people that did not know him well it looked like he was grieving his wife, but his family, the people closest to him at the office, they knew that he was overwhelmed with life and was still fearing that something else would happen that would destroy that what he thought safe.

On top of all that, there were problems at work with a business partner that had worked for them for many years and did suddenly not their job anymore. The large-scale laundry that was working for them in Paris had brought back the things they had been trusted with in a state they could not pass to their guests if they wanted to keep their standard and after having the situation inquired, Louis had been informed that the renewed contracts had not been brought to his attention but his mother's who limited payment and therefore performance. She also had agreed to hire a new supplier for towels and linen that had not been given his blessing as CEO, but nobody doubted the decisions of Madame Bourbon, the powerful matriarch of the hotel chain, and Louis was pissed.

Putting the documents he had just signed into a folder and got up. Alexandre had announced that he would be back at work tomorrow, after almost three weeks of being absent. He missed his trusted assistant and friend, had visited him during the days he had to spend in the hospital and he had insisted that he stayed home a few days longer than the doctors had suggested, not wanting to risk him being not at the top of his game. Francoise was a big help, but something about the woman irked him, and he was aware that she did not agree with Lorraine's influence on Philippe and lately also on him, and that she was subtly flirting with him. He had never encouraged her and maybe, in another time, in another situation, he would have been interested. But he was not.

His legs felt heavy and he knew that he would just write two more emails and would then make his way home, craving a long hot bath, a little time with the children and then a good night's sleep, but when he approached the door, he heard arguing voices from the other side. Louis made out Francoise's voice and the voice of a man...of...he frowned and opened the door.

“What is going on...?”

He stopped in his tracks, looking at the scene that was unfolding in front of him.

Francoise stood right in front of the office door, blocking the way and now turned only a little to look at her boss, who ignored her and instead stared at the man opposite her, who leaned to his left side to look past her, making a little waving gesture with one hand.

“Hey,” he said.

Louis only nodded, the mouth agape and blinking as if he did not truly believe his eyes.

“This...gentleman...demands to talk to you. He has no appointment and I have no idea how security could let...this...get upstairs. I will have a talk to them tomorrow,” Francoise said. “Sir, if you may would now finally do us all a favor and remove yourself?”

“Ragnar?” Louis finally whispered, awakening from his deer in headlights pose.

Ragnar smiled hesitantly.

“Hey, again,” he said. “I...uhm...I tried to call. Since I couldn't reach you I thought I just step by?”

Louis nodded and put the folder onto the desk next to Francoise who stared at Ragnar like he was transmitting various diseases just by standing there.

Then Louis surprised both of them when he reached out with a hand towards Ragnar who the other man grabbed.

“Francoise, I don't need you anymore tonight, thank you for your services. I expect you back at your working place tomorrow since Alexandre will return to his duties,” he said with a smile while dragging Ragnar, who winked and grinned at the shocked woman, into his office where Ragnar shut the door with a kick of his foot.

“She's a bitch...,” Ragnar said, but was shut up when Louis put a hand around the back of his neck and dragged him down to press his lips to the other man's.

Immediately, Ragnar returned the kiss as consuming and intense as he was able to, drowning in the warmth and proximity of Louis, so close and still seeming so unreal after the weeks in which they had both almost given up hope to ever see each other again. His tongue pushed into Louis' mouth, making the Frenchman moan. He pulled Louis closed against his body and shoved his hands underneath the tailored suit jacket that Louis was wearing and neither man cared when the probably expensive garment dropped to the floor and he immediately started to pull at the tie and loosened the knot to let the strip of silk follow. Meanwhile, Louis had started to get busy with Ragnar's flannel that was covering the t-shirt underneath. The muscles that Louis could feel under the think fabric of the shirt made him already shiver.

“I've missed you,” Ragnar whispered into his mouth when their kisses become less feverish and slowed down a little. “I know it's...”

“...insane,” Louis completed his words, stepping back a little.

He looked up to the taller man, and Ragnar now noticed how tired Louis looked, the fine lines around his eyes and the sadness that still filled his eyes.

“I know,” Louis continued. “It is insane, but I feel the same. I felt from the first day I lost something when you left, I lost you.”

“You'll never lose me again,” Ragnar said, bowing down and continuing the kiss.

There was an understanding, something that felt natural and organic when they stripped each other out of their clothing and tumbled finally down on the soft carpet that covered the floor of Louis office, limbs entangled, lips firmly glued together. The two men only had one night before this, never had met before, and still it felt to either like they had known each other for lifetimes and like this was meant to be. Louis felt tears filling his eyes, the all consuming feeling of lust and desire and something else, something he could not put into words and would never be able to explain.

Ragnar teased the stiff nipples of the man who was to become his lover, and maybe something else, something more, making Louis shiver and bite softly down into Ragnar's shoulder, trying to find an outlet for the emotions that were suffocating him, that he held back his whole life and only since he had met Ragnar knew that he was able to feel those emotions.

Both men were rockhard, their erections pressing against each other's bodies and not leaving any doubt that they both were desperate for more.

Ragnar, laying half on top of Louis, leaned his forehead against Louis' and looked into the other man's eyes.

“You can still tell me to stop,” he whispered, remembering that he had said the same words weeks ago when they had shared that first night in the hotel room.

Louis remembered as well, as his smile showed, and shook his head.

“Never stop,” he said, the voice hoarse, and hooked a leg over Ragnar's hip, urging his lover to hold him closer, to finally becoming his again.

The singer smiled, looking almsot a little ashamed, which made Louis frown.

“Don't hate me,” he said. “But I've come prepared.”

The frown on Louis' forehead grew deeper while Ragnar shifted a little and reached for his jeans and pulled something out of a pocket, which, at the realization what Ragnar held in his hands, made him laugh.

“So, you thought I am this easy that you brought condoms and lubricant with you?” Louis laughed.

“Well,” Ragnar pretended to look shocked and then looked down Louis' body, taking his leaking cock into his fist, pulling another moan from Louis. “You seem to be just as easy as I hoped you would be.”

And with those words, he supported Louis leg until he held it angled against Ragnar's arm and pushed a lubed finger into him.

Louis let out a sigh, as if he felt relieved, and arched his back, pressing his body against Ragnar's, instinctively begging for more, which Ragnar gladly provided when first one more and then a third finger followed, stretching and opening him up until he could be certain that he would not cause Louis any pain but nothing but the pleasure he hoped he could give the man he had desired for weeks.

Slowly, Ragnar pushed inside him, not stopping until his whole length was sheathed by Louis' tight heat. He waited for seconds before he started to move, testing how fast and deep he could go, listened to the whimpers and moans that came from Louis' throat, trying how to make his body sing and his senses response, but then there was no more holding back and he took up speed and intensity. Soon, Louis' moans turned into screams that he silenced with his lips in deep and wet kisses, them moving together until there was nothing but them in the world.

Every inch of skin on Louis body suddenly felt on fire, felt alive again, and he wrapped his legs around Ragnar's, his short fingernails dug into the taller man's shoulders, the eyes screwed shut when he found his release sooner as he would have wanted. But the need and passion between them left him no chance but to give himself fast and completely, and he came with a gasp and the feeling that his heart stopped beating. Only seconds after him, he felt how the condom filled and Ragnar followed him over the edge, pulsing and shivering, guttural moans at Louis' ear leaving no doubt that Ragnar had lost control over his emotions in the same way he had.

Ragnar shifted only a little, held Louis tight in his arms, and then rolled of him, dragging Louis with him, still holding him and burying his nose in Louis' hair, the eyes closed and fighting the need to just start crying.

He had him. He finally had him again. Louis, his Louis.

“Tell me you stay,” Louis whispered against Ragnar's collarbone, inhaling the scent of the other man, musky and mixed with the cologne he was wearing. He did not want to beg, and at the same time, he knew he would do anything to make his wish come true. “Please tell me you stay.”

Ragnar kissed the damp hair of his lover.

“As long as you'll have me,” he said, himself feeling overwhelmed by feeling he did not know he was able to feel. “Forever if you allow me.”

“Forever,” Louis repeated and it was a coincidence that his eyes fell onto the clock that was on the wall next to the door. “Shit, I have to get home, my children...”

Ragnar nodded and kissed once more his hair.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” He asked. “I know that guy who owns a hotel, I guess he can arrange that I can check in there.”

Louis looked up, and Ragnar noticed how his blue-green eyes were filled with life again and not as cold as they had seemed when he had arrived.

“Come home with me,” Louis said.

Ragnar blinked.

“Home,” he repeated and Louis nodded.

“Forever means you need to meet my children anyway, so why wait?”

Ragnar smiled brightly.

“I'd love to,” he said. “I'd love to meet your family.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnar becoming part of his new family.

The moment Ragnar had entered the house in which Louis lived, saw the things that still were a memory of the woman that just had lived here a few weeks ago, he had felt out of place. The place was pretty, sure, but it was feminine with the pastel colors and stucco details, and Ragnar almost winced when he set foot into a bedroom that looked like it was that of a princess. He was the lover of this young widower, and this place was still that of his wife, held her smell and held her things. Louis noticed his discomfort and seemed a little embarrassed, but he did not say or do anything.

The following morning, after a comfortable sleep in each other's arms, the first night that Louis had been truly able to sleep without interruption, Ragnar woke up to an empty room. His bags and suitcases that he and Louis had carried into the room late at night, after having spent hours in a traffic jam after an accident, stopping them from seeing the children before bed time, stood at the foot of the bed, his clothes lay scattered next to them where he had dropped them. Louis had been a little upset, nervous, because he had to call the nanny he had hired, a young woman called Sophie, and ask her to bring his children to bed. Sophie had waited for them to come home, a pretty young girl who was studying to become a teacher and took the part time job as a nanny to support her studies, and Ragnar immediately liked her, who smiled gently at the two men and said good night with a wink.

Ragnar frowned and remained seated on the edge of the bed for a moment, only wearing his boxer shorts and one sock, not remembering if there was a reason why he left that one on or if he had just been to tired to bother. He rubbed his face, felt the stubble and contemplated just going to the bathroom, take a shower and shave and get ready to meet Louis' children.

Louis' family.

It felt so unreal that he was here, in this house, where his lover – his LOVER! - lived with children he had not met yet. That he would meet his brother and boyfriend, would be part of his life. He wished deeply that this would work, that they would have the chance to build something together.

Just when he was getting up with a moan, the door flew open and he thought that Louis would return, but when Ragnar turned around, he was faced with a little boy in blue pajamas that had a pattern of white clouds. The dark hair was wavy and unruly, and he stared at Ragnar with wide pale blue-green eyes. There was no question that this boy would grow up to be the spitting image of his father.

“Qui êtes vous?” The boy asked, deepening the frown on Ragnar's face.

“I'm sorry, but I don't speak French,” he replied, making a mental note that he needed to find a tutor when he wanted to live in Paris with Louis.

“Philippe!”

Louis turned around the corner and almost stumbled over his son when he entered the bedroom himself, having followed the boy.

“I'm sorry, Ragnar,” Louis said, smiling bashfully. “I told the children that I had a guest upstairs and Philippe decided he wanted to meet you.”

Ragnar smiled at the sight of him, the always so elegant man wearing checkered pajama pants and a simple t-shirt, the hair tousled.

“Hey,” Ragnar said with a smile and then turned his attention back to Philippe. “Hey you, I'm Ragnar,” he said very slowly and put a hand onto his own chest.

The boy tilted his head to the side.

“You speak funny,” Philippe said.

“Oh, you speak English?”

Louis had stepped closer and patted his son's hair.

“We raise...I raise them bilingual, French and English, and they visit an international school.”

“That's...cool,” Ragnar smiled. “I was worried they won't understand a word I say.”

Louis and Ragnar looked into each other's eyes, both a droopy smile on their faces.

“You have funny hair,” Philippe said then.

“Philippe,” Louis said. “You really come after your uncle. I wonder if it's the name.”

Philippe giggled.

“Uncle Philippe is cool,” he laughed. “And Uncle Lorraine too.”

Louis shook his head.

“Do you want to join us for breakfast?” He then asked Ragnar, who nodded.

“Just let me get dressed into something, I'll find you in a few minutes.”

“Downstairs, turn to the right at the bottom of the stairs and follow the loud voices.”

Ragnar grinned and while Louis and the babbling Philippe went back downstairs, he went into the bathroom to get ready for the first confrontation with the family he was about to become a part of.

This was going to be the life he had always wanted.

* * * * * * * * * * *

A few days later, Ragnar found himself already in the center of this life, and it was so much easier than he had ever expected.

While Louis went to work, he stayed home, chatted with Sophie, took and made phone calls with his friends and family, and finally contacted a lawyer that would support him throughout the divorce he was going for. There was no chance he would be able to reconcile with Aslaug, not with Louis already having his heart taken captive.

The breakfast together with Louis and the children, Anne, who was a the brink of becoming a teenager, Marie, who always had her nose in a book, and sassy little Philippe, who everyone said was like his uncle who he had not met yet, had become a fixture in their lives. Ragnar was frying bacon which everyone loved, while Louis pressed fresh juices and the children chatted about their days.

It felt like family.

It felt like home.

“And...and then Michel took his painting and when Madame Curier said it was not what she had asked for, he threw it at her,” Anne said, giggling. “It was wet and her blouse got smeared with all the paint.”

“That was not very kind of Michel,” Louis commented, but not hiding the grin that took years from him and made him look like the young man he really was.

Ragnar pinched his side and when Louis jumped a little, pressed a kiss to his neck. An adorable blush crept up Louis cheeks.

“You two are so cute!” Marie exclaimed, to which Louis blushed even more.

“I'm not cute,” Ragnar said, grinning.

“Yes, you are,” Louis said and put a glass onto the table in front of his daughter, giving her a wink. “What are your plans for today?” he then asked directed to Ragnar while sitting down.

“I have another phone conference with the lawyer, and Floki called and left a message, he wants to know if I'm still alive,” Ragnar laughed but then winced, thinking that the mention of death in this company might be causing problems, but Louis chuckled and Marie rolled her eyes at him. “What?”

“I can't wait until I meet Floki,” Louis said. “He sounds...fun.”

Ragnar huffed.

“Fun is not the word I'd use to describe Floki. Annoying. Crazy. A little odd?”

“You mean like my brother?”

“Hey!” Anne said. “Don't insult Uncle Philippe, or I'll tell him.”

“Uncle Philippe is awesome!” His namesake declared. “He's so pretty!”

Ragnar raised his brows.

“More pretty than your dad?”

Little Philippe nodded.

“When can I meet your brother? He sounds like someone I would like,” he grinned, earning a slap from Louis that hit his upper arm.

Both men laughed.

“Jealous?” Ragnar asked.

“Of my brother?” Louis returned. “Never. He would never cheat on Lorraine, and if you tried something, Lorraine would not hesitate to scratch your eyes out.”

“I think I will like both of them,” Ragnar smiled and put his hand on Louis'.

The Frenchman looked at their hands and then turned his so he could intertwine his fingers with Ragnar's.

“I hope so,” Louis said silently. “We have to thank Lorraine for this.”

Ragnar nodded.

“I...,” before he could finish the sentence, the door burst open and a woman stormed into the room, dark hair with gray strands and piercing light eyes that were not curious as Louis' but cold and calculating.

Ragnar's brow went up, while Louis' face went pale and then he tried to pull his hand from Ragnar's, but instead, Ragnar closed his fingers tighter around his and they exchanged a look that told Louis that he was there and would not leave his side.

Ragnar gave him a short nod and Louis turned his attention back to the woman, who looked stunned from one to the other, while Marie crossed her arms in front of her chest and Philippe started to shift on his chair and Anne pressed her lips together.

“Mother,” Louis said. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

The sarcasm in Louis' voice almost made Ragnar laugh out loud.

She snapped something French back that made Ragnar twitch even though he did not understand a word she said.

“Please talk English, Ragnar's French is not yet good enough to follow a conversation,” Louis said, and Marie nodded with an annoyed expression. “Care to explain how you entered my house?”

“With my key of course,” Louis' mother said, her eyes on Ragnar, who, without stopping to smile, continued to eat a piece of bacon. “And who is this...Ragnar?”

Ragnar noticed how Louis went silent for a moment, and then his lover took a breath, but before he could answer, Philippe did and said: “He's Papa's boyfriend.”

All eyes were on the boy, who grinned brightly and drank some of his juice.

Louis was pale as a sheet, while Ragnar gave the boy a nod and grinned, chewing on his bacon and pressing Louis' fingers until Louis looked at him.

Louis' light eyes searched for something, until Ragnar raised his brows for a second and tilted his head to the side.

“Are you?” Louis asked.

“I guess,” Ragnar replied.

And then Louis started to smile and nodded once.

“Is this a joke?” Louis' mother asked, the voice close to being a shriek.

“I don't see anyone laughing,” Ragnar said.

“That...you can not be serious.”

“Oh, I's very serious,” Louis said. “Otherwise Ragnar would not be here with me and my children. Would you tell us what you are doing here?”

“I heard that some punk was living here,” she snarled. “I had to see with my own eyes that both my sons have become...faggots.”

Louis stood up without a warning and made a few steps towards his mother. He held his hand out, which she looked at questioning.

“Key,” he only said.

“What?”

“Hand me the key you had without my knowledge,” he said. “And then kindly leave my house and not come back uninvited until you are ready to apologize to me and to Pip.”

“But...”

“Key.”

She swallowed, eyes on first Louis and then Ragnar, nothing but disgust and hate in her pale pupils, and then she put the key from her pocket into Louis hand, turned around and started to leave.

“You will regret this,” she said in the doorway before she left.

The kitchen was awkwardly silent.

It was Louis who was the first to move again, but he did not return to his chair at Ragnar's side, but started to leave the room in direction of the terrace.

“I need a moment,” he said and then stepped outside.

Ragnar looked at the children, who all seemed worried and nervous.

“Are you guys okay if I leave you alone for a moment?” Ragnar asked.

Marie nodded.

“Go and look after him,” she said. “We'll finish breakfast and then get ready for school.”

Ragnar nodded, got up and followed Louis outside.

He found him sitting on the edge of a large planter, the head in his hands and he was first not sure if it was a good idea to approach him, and the ndecided to do just that.

“Louis?” He asked carefully and went to his knees in front of him.

Louis looked up, the eyes filled with held back tears.

“She tried to take Marie and Anne from me, after my wife's death,” Louis explained. “She wants them to go to a boarding school, like Philippe and I have. It almost killed Philippe, and made me unhappy and ripped out my heart. I can't allow her to do that to my children too, Ragnar, I just can't.”

Ragnar took Louis' hands into his.

“We will not allow her to do any of that,” he said. “I can't wait to meet your family, your real family, Lorraine and Philippe, and I already love your children. I hope you will love mine too.”

Louis nodded.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “You have so many worries and I am being a drama queen.”

Ragnar smiled.

“I have four little sons, the youngest only four months old and disabled, Louis,” he said. “You told me last night that we will make this work, didn't you? I believed you. Now you have to believe in your words yourself.”

Louis nodded slowly and then leaned forward until his forehead met that of Ragnar.

“I am falling in love with you, I think.”

“You think?”

Again, he nodded.

“Should I be worried about you thinking?”

Louis huffed a laugh.

“Oh God, I'm not sure that you and Lorraine should really meet.”

Ragnar grinned and pressed a chaste kiss to Louis' lips.

“Can't wait,” he said. “And I'm pretty damn sure that I have fallen in love with you already, just wait and see. Just wait and see.”


	10. Chapter 10

Ragnar cleaned his hands on his jeans when he opened the front door, following an insistent knock and expected to find Louis' mother on the other side, who had continued to give Louis upset calls throughout the last days, but instead, he found a man, a little smaller than him, of a lean build and a head of carefully coiffed blond hair, a mustache and wide awake blue eyes.

The stranger grinned and before Ragnar could even say anything to inquire who the stranger was, he clapped a hand on his arm and just walked past him into the house, uninvited.

“What the fuck?” Ragnar mumbled and stopped the man with a hand, making the other man turn around.

He had a raised brow and was looking at the hand on his jacket, seemingly unimpressed.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Ragnar hissed.

“I'm making a welcome to the family visit?” The other asked. “Not so sure if I should welcome you though.”

Ragnar dropped his hand.

“You are...?”

“Philippe de Lorraine,” Lorraine said, grinning mischievously. “Since Louis has not yet taken the time to introduce you to us, I thought I take responsibility for this and introduce myself while Louis and Philippe are in a meeting.”

He rolled his eyes, indicating that he thought that business meetings of that sort bored him terribly.

“Must be confusing, with the names,” Ragnar smile back, a little hesitant. “Ragnar Lothbrok.”

Lorraine nodded.

“Oh, I know,” he said. “I go by Lorraine to avoid confusion with my paramour.”

“And then there's also little Philippe,” Ragnar laughed. “Were you out of names?”

Lorraine returned the laugh.

“There's also Philippe's son Philippe-Charles, but he goes by Charley.”

Ragnar chuckled and Lorraine shrugged.

“Don't ask, it's a family thing,” Lorraine said, shifting the bags in his hand a little and then nodding into the direction of the rooms in the back of the building. “Can I put these down?”

“Sure,” Ragnar said, and followed the guest into the kitchen, where Lorraine started to unpack bags with groceries, which made Ragnar frown. “What...?”

Lorraine shrugged again.

“Only bought a few things I know the children like, but I see you are already playing housewife,” he said with a nod towards the flour covered working space. “What are you making?”

“Cookies.”

“Cookies,” Lorraine repeated. “That's...unexpected. I didn't think you to be the domestic type.”

“Why? Because I'm a rock star?”

“Hm, you're right. That was prejudiced. I should know better, I apologize.”

Ragnar smiled.

“No harm done,” he said and sat down on one of the stools that surrounded the kitchen island, eyeing the cans of soda and snacks that Lorraine unpacked until he was done and took a stool himself.

“How are you settling in?” Lorraine asked, the playfulness gone and seriousness on his face.

Ragnar nodded.

“Good, I guess,” he said. “It's all new and it's weird how fast this is going, but it feels like the right thing to do.”

Lorraine smiled.

“Those Bourbon boys, they take your heart and never let it go again,” he said and Ragnar noticed a certain glint in his eyes while he thought of his boyfriend. “You're here to stay then?”

“I'm planning to. I don't know what Louis told you about me.”

“Nothing. I read some things on the internet. Your...wife...gave an interview that made you not look good, but she seems like a bitch,” Lorraine went on.

Ragnar laughed and nodded.

“She is. I've filed for divorce and she is trying to backstab me. She's not even interested in the children.”

“So you are going for custody?”

Lorraine's brows went up.

Ragnar nodded.

“I am. I want my boys to grow up in an environment where they are loved and wanted.”

“May I ask why you are not with them right now then?”

The Scandinavian man frowned.

“I love my children, but I have a life too, maybe that sounds cruel. I needed to fix this thing with Louis first. My lawyer is already kneedeep in the fight, and I will go to London in a few days to get my boys.”

“Louis knows that?”

“Of course,” Ragnar answered a little annoyed, not liking that Lorraine seemed to think he was doing this behind Louis' back. “He supports me in this.”

Lorraine nodded, the eyes deep in thought for a moment.

“You'll need a bigger place,” he then said. “You have...four?”

Ragnar grinned.

“Six, but the two older ones are with my first wive and are 19 and 17 years old already.”

Lorraine looked at the other man and then got up.

“Come on, get yourself respectable, and then we'll pick up our gentleman and take them out for dinner. Philippe is desperate to meet you,” he said and when Ragnar did not move continued with a wink: “Come, we won't bite. Unless you ask us to.”

Ragnar laughed and went to change clothes and clean up a little.

A few minutes later, he met Lorraine in the hallway of the house and left together with him, joining the other man in a silver car that was not as sleek as he had expected it from the outspoken man, but then, he and his partner raised two children themselves, and there was probably always use for the transport of children and their friends, toys and several other things.

On the backseat sat a small dog, looking like an extremely fluffy hedgehog with alert eyes that started to bark high-pitched at Ragnar the moment he sat down.

“Louis, shut up,” Lorraine said while fastening his seat belt.

“Louis?” Ragnar asked, and Lorraine grinned.

“Loud, small, drama queen,” he explained and Ragnar had to laugh.

Lorraine drove though not like the responsible person he seemed to be, but like he was out for someone on the street and Ragnar found himself pressed into his seat and his hand clasping tight around the door handle until Lorraine parked the car with screeching tires in the underground garage of the hotel, next to a sportscar of a deep blue that Lorraine put a hand on when he got out, like he said hello to an old friend.

When Ragnar raised a brow at the gesture, Lorraine smiled and said: “It's Philippe's.”, as if that explained everything.

Together, making small talk and feeling already quite comfortable with each other, they took the private elevator to the office floor where Ragnar knew Louis' office, and probably Philippe's too, were located.

In the office where Ragnar had not even two weeks ago the confrontation with the woman he called in his head “the bitch”, sat now a middle aged man with sparse hair and friendly but inquiring eyes.

Lorraine smiled at the man who returned a kind smile.

“Alexandre,” he said. “So good to have you back. Are you feeling well?”

The man continued to smile.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied. “I'm glad to be back. Madame Maintenon has left a few things a little unsorted and I'm still trying to figure everything out.”

Lorraine huffed.

“She...ah well...I better not talk bad about her,” he grinned. “Alexandre, this is Ragnar Lothbrok, he is, well, ...”

“Monsieur Bourbon's partner, I'm aware,” Alexandre said and offered Ragnar a hand to shake. “Monsieur Bourbon has instructed me to get a set of keys which has just brought a few minutes ago.” He turned to the desk and took a keychain to hand over to Ragnar, who looked at the metal pieces curiously. “For the garage, the elevator, the alarm system, and for the offices on this floor, as well as a general key for the hotel rooms.”

Ragnar blinked.

“They are...for me?”

Lorraine clapped onto his back, while Ragnar was shocked by the trust that was given to him, something that seemed to not surprise Lorraine or the man called Alexandre in the slightest.

“Welome to the family,” Lorraine whispered into his ear and then turned his attention back to Alexandre. “Are they done yet?”

“Should be any moment. Do you want me to inform Monsieur that you are here waiting for him?”

Lorraine nodded.

“If you don't they will forget time and we'll wait for hours,” he grinned.

Alexandre smiled again and took the phone, pressed a button and waited a moment before he said something French that Ragnar again did not get.

A few moments later, the door to Louis' office opened and Louis stepped out, the hair a little in disarray from running his hands through it, but his eyes were no longer sad or stressed but filled with life. He immediately went to Ragnar, and raised himself onto his toes to press a kiss to Ragnar's lips, a soft smile showing.

“Hey you, I didn't know you'd come,” Louis said, but not annoyed. Instead something like happiness was in his voice.

“He,” Ragnar pointed at Lorraine, who was wearing a mask of fake innocence. “Sort of took me hostage.”

“He would do that, yes.”

“Don't talk like that about my worse half,” the other man who exited the office said, amusement in his voice.

Lorraine fake a dramatic gasp, but then went to kiss the fourth man, who was one of the most stunning sights Ragnar had ever seen with black curls surrounding a sculpted face of white marble, piercing pale eyes that not for a single second left him out of his sight, and a silver suit that fit his lithe body like a glove.

After kissing Lorraine, the man turned to Ragnar and offered his hand.

“Philippe. I'm glad I have the chance to finally meet you, Ragnar,” he said, the voice a melodic velvet.

“Uhm...,” Ragnar made, very eloquent, and woke from the short stare the beauty of Philippe had put him into. “Yes, very glad to meet you too, heard a lot about you already.”

Philippe laughed, crystal clear, while he took Lorraine's hand, as if it was a needed offering of stability and comfort.

“I hope nothing bad,” he laughed.

“Oh, I guess a bit of both,” Ragnar said.

“Don't tell them all my secrets,” Louis said, the face looking younger with the smile he was having on his lips.

“We actually wanted to ask you out for lunch, what do you say?” Lorraine asked. “And don't tell me you need to discuss some boring business matters, you need to take a break once in a while.”

Louis noticed Philippe's frown and knew what Lorraine was implying, and answered with an acceptance for the lunch offer before his brother could say something, deepening Philippe's frown that also Ragnar noticed.

They agreed to order pizza and eat in Louis' office, where Ragnar watched how Philippe settled for a salad, and Lorraine snatched the menu from his hands and picked out two pizzas for Philippe instead, starting to bicker with his boyfriend, who pouted and seemed more annoyed by Lorraine taking over their order. Ragnar tried to remember that he later needed to ask Louis about this, already sensing this was more than Philippe being on a diet to keep his figure and Lorraine being a mother-hen.

Ragnar and Louis sat on the floor, the other two on the soft couch, while they took their greasy lunch, and again Ragnar noticed how Lorraine, and also Louis watched every bite that Philippe took, who seemed to like the salmon pizza Lorraine had ordered for him and munched with more and more enthusiasm.

“Will you come to our place on the weekend? The kids asked for a picnic again,” Philippe asked, and Louis nodded.

“I'd like that, do you?” He asked Ragnar, who nodded while chewing his pepperoni pizza, and then frowned when Louis' cell phone went off and he looked at the display with a questioning expression and answered the call.

Ragnar could not follow what he said in French, but he saw how his boyfriend grew pale and then Philippe and Lorraine both got up when Louis ended the call.

“What happened?” Ragnar asked.

“My...our mother is trying to get the girls out of school to take them away,” he said, the voice trembling.

“I drive,” Philippe said. “Go. Go!”

* * * * * * * * * *

Philippe turned out to be a much safer but not slower driver than Lorraine, and he broke several tempo limits and ignored red lights on the way to the school, where two police cars were already indicating that something was very wrong. The car had not even stopped completely when Louis jumped out and started to run, the other three following as fast as they could as soon as Philippe had parked, and they had problems keeping up with the smaller man.

In the entry hall of the school, they found Louis already stopped by a police man in uniform who told him to calm down, while behind some more officials, Marie and Anne were standing arm in arm, both crying. Another policeman held back Louis' and Philippe's mother, who was talking down on them and trying to reach her granddaughters.

“Monsieur Bourbon,” a woman said, starting to talk to Louis, who did not calm down and was finally let through by the police after they were informed that he was the girl's father.

Philippe went to stand close behind Ragnar, who felt a little helpless, and started to translate what the policeman and the woman, who was the principal of the school, told Louis.

“Mother tried to pick up the girls right out of the current lesson, and insisted that Louis sent her because the girls needed some time away because of his gay relationship and that they were upset about that. Then Marie told her that she loves you, and is okay with you and my brother being in love and that Anne thinks the same, that there is no reason to leave. But mother insisted and started to drag Marie by force out of class, telling her she is taking her away. The teacher called for help and the police just arrived. Louis is telling them that mother never had the allowance to pick his daughters up and that he does not agree with her taking any kind of responsibility for his family a moment longer. Mother says that his children have to be taken into custody because of his bad influence and that he is a bad father.”

“Can I kill her now?” Ragnar snarled.

“She also found some choice words about you, but I spare you that hatred,” Philippe said, his eyes shooting daggers at his mother, who was the embodiment of a fairy tale witch.

“We'll kill her. I know where to dump her body,” Lorraine hissed behind him.

Finally the policemen stepped a little away, and Anne ran right into Ragnar's arms while Louis' held the sobbing Marie.

“How dare you?” Louis said, surprisingly calm into direction of his mother. “If you ever come close to either of us again, you will pay.”

“He is threatening me!” She yelled.

“I damn sure am,” Louis said. “You will not ruin my children's lives like you ruined ours.”

He reached out a hand towards Ragnar, which he took.

Their eyes locked, and both knew this moment that they were in this together. Forever.


	11. Chapter 11

“They are asleep now,” Louis said when he returned to the living room hours later.

Philippe and Lorraine were sitting close to each other on the couch, Philippe obviously upset and shaking with anger and something that only Lorraine would be able to understand.

Ragnar had prepared drinks for them all, a bottle of beer for himself, red wine for Lorraine and Philippe, a glass of whiskey for Louis that he handed him when he got closer.

“Did they calm?” Ragnar asked.

“Anne is trying to be reasonable and says that here grandmere can't take them away, but Marie is really upset, she cried until she fell asleep,” Louis whispered. “Why is she doing this to us?”

“We'll never know,” Philippe said, his neck massaged by his boyfriend's hand.

They had made a call to their babysitter to stay longer and take care of Marie-Louise and Charley until they would come home. Right now, Louis and his sanity had priority above anything else. The older Bourbon brother was significantly shaken, the face stern and not showing any emotion, but his eyes shifted and everyone close to him knew that he was very close to a breakdown.

“Come here,” Ragnar said and even though Louis tried to be the strong and untouched CEO, he melted into Ragnar's embrace and leaned his head against his boyfriend's shoulder.

“I don't understand what she is trying to achieve with all this,” Louis mumbled.

“Control,” came the answer from the couch and everyone looked at Philippe, who took a sip from his wine. “She cannot stand that she is losing control over your life, Lou. She lost control over mine when Henriette died and Lorraine returned. She tried to make us break up a thousand times, but she cannot succeed. Now with Marie gone, she thought she can control you with taking away the children, but then Ragnar showed up, and she realizes that you are no longer a boy following her orders.”

Louis nodded without raising his head.

“Sit down,” Ragnar whispered into Louis' hair. “You're shaking.”

Again, Louis nodded and allowed Ragnar to lead him to the armchair and let himself fall into the soft pillows, while Ragnar took a seat on the armrest next to him, continuing physical contact.

“She's not going to give up,” Louis said. “She is going to try and try again until she wins.”

“Only if you let her win,” Philippe gave back. “Look at me, Lou. Look at me.”

Louis looked up and looked at his brother, who leaned forward.

“She tried to destroy me, what makes me the person I am, and she almost succeeded. I trust that these words will not leave this room,” he said, and Louis and Ragnar nodded, while Lorraine looked like he was fighting with himself, knowing what would come. “When Henriette died, she told me that it should have been me who died. She told me that while Lorraine was in the room, that we both should just do the world a favor and die and not stain my children's life with our presence. She thought she would break me when I was already at the bottom, but instead, she made me stronger and she made me fight for my life. I'm having a hard time to keep swimming and to keep my head above water. There are days,” he said while taking Lorraine's hand. “Where I want to get away. Far away. That's the days when I don't eat, when I throw up because everything gets too much.”

“I know,” Louis said. “I wish I could have saved you.”

“You have saved me. You and Lorraine. Without you I would not be here today, without you I would rest next to Henriette where I never belonged. Now, it is our job to save you.”

Louis' eyes were wet with tears that he again was holding back, and Philippe wished his brother would once let go, scream and yell and cry, but maybe that was just not Louis.

“And I thought my ex is a bad mother,” Ragnar mumbled into his beer.

“Nothing like Madame Bourbon,” Lorraine said, leaning back, a hand on Philippe's leg. “Nothing like the queen.”

Ragnar stroked Louis neck, calming him with the touch of his skin.

“Well, she may once was a queen, but she gave the country she ruled to her son. Which makes Louis the king now, doesn't it?”

“It's not that easy,” Louis said. “She still holds the majority of shares in the hotels. She is our boss.”

Philippe nodded, not liking the implication of Louis' words.

“I have to get away,” Louis said after a moment of silence. “As long as I stay here, as long as I work for her, she will try to control my life. She will destroy what I have with Ragnar, she will take my children away, she will destroy me. I'm not this strong.”

“You are stronger than you think,” Lorraine said.

“I have to get away,” Louis repeated.

“We,” Ragnar said. “If you get away, I will too. I go wherever you will lead. I gave you a promise of forever, remember?”

Louis looked up and smiled hesitantly and sad.

“To be honest,” Philippe said. “You can't honestly think to get away.”

Louis frowned at his brother.

“You can't honestly think to get away without us,” Philippe added. “If you leave. We go too.”

Lorraine nodded.

“But...,” Louis said. “You can't give up your life just because I want to run away.”

“It's not running away. It's running towards the life you want to live,” Lorraine corrected him.

Louis sighed and looked at an invisible spot somewhere, then he sighed again.

“Where would we go?” He then asked.

Philippe and Lorraine exchanged a look, and Ragnar suddenly had the feeling that there was something else going on that neither Louis nor he were aware of.

“Do you remember the business trip that Lorraine and me did a few weeks ago? To California?”

Louis thought for a moment, than he nodded.

“Just before Marie's death, yes,” he then said. “That was about the Hornigold hotel. It's a shame we could not aquire that location.”

Philippe smiled at Lorraine who raised their holding hands and kissed the palm of Philippe's hand.

“We may not have told you the whole truth about that,” Philippe then smiled softly.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ragnar was out to pick up a few things they still needed, while Louis was walking through the almost empty house only two weeks later.

His heart was beating fast, and he still thought that he might wake up any moment and realize that this all had been nothing but a dream.

Ragnar.

Being in love.

Having his relationship with his brother fixed for good.

Having the love of his children.

Breaking the chains and starting a new life. Far away from the pressure of being a Bourbon, the pressure of his mother.

He had handed in his resignation the day after Philippe and he had sat down and his brother had explained to him that they had lied after returning from the States, when they had informed him that the Hornigold business had not worked out. Instead, they had bought the hotel, just not in the name of the Hotel Versailles group, but in private on the names of Philippe and Louis Bourbon, as if Philippe had long sensed that they soon would need to get away from the toxic environment they lived in since their childhood.

Preparations were being made already, Philippe being the businessman nobody expected of him, at least not those who did not look behind the facade of the flamboyant and extroverted gay icon from the wealthy family, those who did not see the broken boy with the tears in his eyes and the nervous habits.

He should have been upset with Philippe and Lorraine for having been played, but instead he was proud of them.

He laughed at himself at the thought that he could not even remember when he had hummed a song to himself the last time, and now, while he walked through the house, checking if everything important had been packed and shipped, he was humming the ballad that Ragnar had written and played to him on the guitar last night. A beautiful, yet sad, lovesong about loss and the light at the end of the tunnel.

In just a few weeks, everything about his life had changed, and now he made the last step into a better, a new life.

He touched the wall in the kitchen and looked at the now empty island, remembering with a sentimental smile how he had taken meals there with the children, with Marie, and with Ragnar who had taken his heart captive and had taken over their life on the battlefield, making him the viking who conquered Paris.

A sound behind him made him smile even more, expecting Ragnar to have come home, but when he turned around, he looked into the upset face of his mother.

“I thought I asked the keys back from you,” he only said.

Anne Bourbon huffed and looked right into his eyes. Her eyes were so similar to Philippe's, but where his were warm and curious, her's were nothing but cold and heartless.

“You have changed,mon petit,” she said, trying to sound worried and heartbroken, but Louis had long ago learned to look behind her facade.

“I have,” he gave back. “For the better. If you would excuse me, I have to take care of a lot of things before we leave.”

“This can only be a joke,” she said. “You have nowhere to go.”

“You'd be surprised.”

“It's this...man, isn't it?” She asked. “He has robbed your senses and only confused you. Just try to think what you are giving up here, Louis. Don't you see he is only after your money?”

“My money? Are you sure you don't mean your money, mother?” Louis snapped back. “That is it, is it not? You are only worried that Ragnar is leeching something of me? Like Lorrained does in your head?”

“That man is a terrible influence on your poor brother. I worry so much for his safety. He...”

“He saved Philippe's life!” He yelled by now. “Where were you when Philippe cut his wrists when he was in school and I found him? Where were you when he took pills when you announced his engagement in public without even consulting him before? Where were you after Henriette's death when his depression wrecked him? You are his fucking mother and you were never at his side. Are you even aware that Philippe has bulimia? That he can't keep food down and forgets to eat for days? Are you even aware that Lorraine holds his head when he is leaning over the toilet and will until the day Philippe will die?” He felt angry, hot tears well up. “You say you worry for his safety? Where have you been all our lives? You have not raised us a single day since our births. You have never hanged out diapers or sat at our bed when we were afraid. You have never supported either of us. You, Anne Bourbon, are not our mother any longer. You are the stranger you have always been. So, I ask you to stay away from us and the men we love.”

Louis was out of breath while he stared at his mother, and he almost hoped that she would break down and beg for his, for Philippe's forgiveness.

But instead, Anne looked at him with an expression of disgust.

Then she turned around and started to walk away, probably still feeling like she won this battle, the head held high and the back straight.

“You will regret this,” she said ice cold from the door.

“No,” Louis replied. “You will regret this when you realize that we were all you had.”

He watched his mother, the woman who had given birth to him and his brother, leave without another word, and watched how Ragnar turned around the corner of the entryway and walked in.

“How much have you heard?” Louis asked.

“You love me?” Ragnar replied and pulled Louis into his arms.

“I do,” Louis whispered into the kiss he shared with him. “I really do.”


	12. Chapter 12

_E P I L O G U E_

1 year later

Having just left a meeting, Louis slipped out of his shoes and enjoyed the blissful warm sand under his bare toes, still standing in the shade of the trees, watching the scenery that unfolded itself in front of him.

The beach was still bare of tourists, but that would hopefully change in the weeks to come, after they opened the hotel next week after all the renovations and changes that they thought necessary would be finished. Billy Manderly-Gunn had turned out to be a much bigger help with all this than Louis had expected after meeting the tall man the first time. Billy had seemed shy and a little insecure, but he bubbled suddenly with life when it had come to the architecture of the building he had designed. He was excited that the buildings would be changed to almost the state they were originally intended to be in, before Hornigold made changes that Louis did not even begin to understand when he had turned the unique and elegant building into a generic and boring hotel.

Right now, Billy's husband Ben was on a break due to an injury on his ankle and enjoyed a day on the beach with the rest of their friends and family, and Louis watched from the shadows how the men and children played with yipping and barking dogs.

Louis made his way down the beach and found his boyfriend – no, his fiance after Ragnar had asked him to marry two weeks ago after his divorce had been finalized – laying on his back and having Ivar on top of him, the one and a half years old boy sleeping quietly. The small child was a stubborn yet smart child with brittle bone disease and was treated carefully but not in a way that made him feel different from his brothers, still, everyone of them took the utmost care that Ivar would never be harmed because one of them forgot about his disability.

Ragnar's sons had started to live with them two months after their move to California and had settled in surprisingly fast, and Louis was very proud of his own children that had taken the younger boys in without a single problem. Ubbe and Philippe had become inseparable, while Marie loved to take care of the smaller boys. They lived in a large house close to the hotel, also with access to the beach, as was the house in which Philippe, Lorraine and their children had found a new home in, only a few minutes away, in walking distance to each other.

Sometimes, it still felt like a dream to Louis, and he sometimes feared to wake up in the life he hated so much.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down next to Ragnar, who blinked up to him, the hair an even lighter blond from the constant outing in the sun, and the eyes as brilliant blue as ever.

Louis touched Ivar's back and then let his hand slid to the bare shoulder of his partner.

“How did the meeting go?” Ragnar asked.

Louis nodded.

“It went good,” he said. “They offered several catering options that sound really good.”

“Great,” Ragnar ginned. “I hoped it would work out.”

“It did,” Louis confirmed. “How is he today?”

Ragnar looked down at the sleeping child.

“He's good. He played a little earlier in the water, he really enjoys that.”

Louis smiled and ruffled the boy's hair.

He looked around, his hand finding Ragnar's.

Philippe was standing in the shallow water right next to Lorraine, who was holding Louis le pom in his arms, whispering something to his husband of two months. There had been fighting, tears and yells that made Lorraine and Philippe almost break up, when Lorraine once again mentioned he would never be Philippe's equal. Philippe had been so upset that he was hiding at Louis' and ragnar's place for two nights until Lorrained brought over the children, and snatched his boyfriend, put the angry Phillipe into the car and drove them that night to Las Vegas to marry there. Philippe made a big scene because he argued he had been robbed of a proper wedding, but two weeks later they all surprised him with a wedding party on the beach and he was beaming with happiness.

Fabien Marchal, the trusted head of security, had followed them to America, just as Alexandre Bontemps had done, not wanting to work for their mother and instead choose to work for the two brothers who started their own business now. They had appreciated his loyalty, and despite him trying to seem badass and without emotion, everyone noticed how he made goggly eyes at the beautiful Sophie who by coincidence had started to study close and had taken again over babysitting and nanny duties in Louis' and Ragnar's household and had already become a constant fixture in their home.

The children all were happy and there had been only few tears while settling into a new environment, but they all felt the happiness and the unknown feeling of being finally in a loving home.

Ben and Billy, John and James, the surfers and their partners, had become close friends in short time. John and James, trying to not show that they were devoted to each other, wanted to build a surfing school, which promised with James being a surfing legend and the support of the successful champion Ben, to be largely successful. Ben and Billy traveled a lot, but it was already agreed that Billy would take a leading position in the hotel.

Their mother had started a campaign filled with hate that though came back to her. After she had given tv interviews and had her voice printed in the press, it all backlashed at her due to the homophobic remarks, the remarks about mental health not being real and that her sons were ungrateful. Louis and Philippe had both decline to make statements, knowing that their mother destroyed her own reputation best. A year after they had left, Hotel Versailles was no longer one of the most successful hotel groups in the world and Anne Bourbon had problems filling the holes the departure of her sons left behind. She had not once contacted them, and by now, Louis knew that they had no mother anymore, that his and Philippe's children would never again meet their grandmother.

Instead, they had made a family of their own.

With uncles and aunts, with brothers, sisters and cousins.

With love and friendship.

With happiness.

He laid down next to Ragnar, so close that he could rest his head against that of his fiance, and close his eyes, listening to the sounds of the voices around them, giggling and talking, laughing and yelling.

And never before, Louis had felt anywhere as much as home as at the side of the man whose ring he soon would be wearing.

He turned his head to Ragnar, who did the same just that moment.

“I love you,” he said with a smile, and Ragnar's eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

“Love you too, Frenchie,” he replied.

Love.

What a strange perfection.


End file.
